"I should've asked more."
Marcus shook his head.
"No."
He looked toward the living room.
"She was my daughter. I should've noticed."
His sister took his hand.
"Then notice now."
Marcus returned to the house with his attorney on the phone.
He'd contacted a family-law lawyer recommended by a colleague, explaining that he needed urgent advice concerning the children's living arrangements, his marriage, and possible removal of property belonging to his daughter.
The attorney didn't promise an immediate dramatic resolution.
She explained that he needed to document what he knew, preserve evidence, and avoid impulsive actions that could create additional conflict.
She also recommended that he contact the appropriate authorities about the missing jewelry and secure documents and belongings without destroying or altering evidence.
Marcus agreed.
Then he made another call.
This one was to an attorney who had helped with his late wife's estate.
The lawyer remembered Nia.
He remembered the keepsake chest.
And he remembered the careful instructions Marcus's wife had left concerning items intended for their daughter.
When Marcus described the missing jewelry, the attorney became serious.
"Are you certain the items were transferred to the child as part of the estate?"
Marcus said they were documented in the inventory and had been held for Nia's benefit.
The attorney asked for the estate records and photographs.
Marcus promised to send them.
Then the lawyer explained that the ownership and any potential recovery claims needed to be evaluated against the documents.
Marcus appreciated the precision.
He didn't need someone declaring Vanessa guilty before the evidence was examined.
He needed to establish what belonged to Nia and what had happened to it.
When he reached the house, he stood in the driveway for a long moment.
The property looked beautiful.
The hedges were perfectly trimmed.
Flowers bloomed beside the walkway.
And sunlight reflected from the windows.
It was the kind of house people admired as they drove past.
Yet inside, his daughter had been hiding damaged shoes and wondering whether she was allowed to ask for her mother's necklace.
Marcus opened the front door.
For the first time, the house didn't feel familiar.
He went upstairs to Nia's bedroom.
The door was partly open.
Inside stood a small bed, a desk, a bookshelf, and the wooden keepsake chest beside the dresser.
Marcus remembered carrying the chest into the room when Nia moved from her old bedroom.
He remembered asking whether she wanted it beside her bed.
She had said yes.
Now he walked toward it.
The brass latch was slightly scratched.
He knelt.
Then opened the lid.