Chapter 14 - THE HOUSE WITH GREEN SHUTTERS
The first thing Clara noticed about Haven House was that somebody had painted over the children's names.
The building stood at the end of a narrow country road, surrounded by tall maples and a neglected vegetable garden.
Its green shutters were faded.
The playground had been removed.
Only four metal anchors remained embedded in the ground where swings had once stood.
Clara stopped beside the entrance.
On the white brick wall, pale rectangular patches marked where small plaques had been taken down.
"Donor names?" she asked.
Rebecca examined one of the patches.
"Possibly."
Dante looked toward the empty windows.
"I paid for places like this without ever visiting them."
Clara heard the regret.
"You can't change that."
"I can find out what happened here."
They had legal authorization to inspect the site.
The property now belonged to a municipal redevelopment agency, which was preparing it for sale.
Rebecca had arranged access through the agency and ensured an official representative would accompany them.
Dante disliked the delay.
Clara reminded him that the days of arriving with armed men and breaking locks were over.
He replied that he remembered.
His expression suggested he remembered reluctantly.
Inside, Haven House smelled of old paper and wood polish.
The reception desk was empty.
Dust covered the shelves.
A mural of musical instruments stretched across one wall.
Children had painted violins, drums, trumpets and a large blue piano.
Clara approached the piano.
Underneath it, barely visible beneath a newer layer of paint, was a handprint.
A child's handprint.
Beside it were two initials.
E.W.
She photographed them.
"Could be Evelyn Ward."
Rebecca nodded.
"Could be another child with the same initials. We'll verify."
Dante moved toward the hallway.
"Where would the records have been kept?"
The agency representative, a quiet man named Peter Lawson, showed them to an office near the back.
Most of the cabinets were empty.
Several had been sealed with labels indicating that their contents were transferred to the county archive.
One cabinet remained.
Its bottom drawer contained blank forms, outdated brochures and several unused notebooks.
Clara lifted one.
The cover was blue.
Her pulse quickened.
But inside, the pages were empty.
"Same supplier," Rebecca said after comparing it with Sofia's notebook. "That doesn't prove anything by itself."
They continued through the building.
The children's bedrooms had been converted into storage spaces.
In the kitchen, one cupboard still contained ceramic mugs decorated with painted stars.
Clara imagined frightened children drinking warm milk from them.
Waiting for parents.
Waiting for answers.
Waiting for adults who were supposed to know what happened next.
She thought of Leo.
Of how many people once made decisions about him without asking what he wanted.
Then she thought of children whose entire personal histories might have been changed by a private institution.
The possibilities made her stomach turn.
They reached the former music room at the end of the hallway.
Its door was painted blue.
Unlike the other rooms, it remained locked.
Peter checked his keys.
"This one isn't listed in the building inventory."
Rebecca looked at him.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning I don't have authorization to open it. We'd have to ask the property manager."
Dante exhaled impatiently.
Clara touched his arm.
"No dramatic entrances."
He looked at the door.
"You're ruining all my hobbies."
She almost smiled.
Peter called his supervisor.
Twenty minutes later, they received permission to enter.
The door opened onto a small room with padded walls and two large windows.
A broken electric keyboard sat on a shelf.
There were no restraints.
No visible signs of violence.
Just an abandoned room that had once been used for music instruction.
On the wall hung a faded schedule.
MONDAY: LISTENING GROUP
TUESDAY: MOVEMENT
WEDNESDAY: CREATIVE MUSIC
Clara studied the dates.
One month had been circled in blue.
November.
The year before Sofia died.
Beneath the schedule, someone had scratched a message into the wooden frame.
ASK WHAT THEY CHANGED.
Rebecca photographed it.
Dante stared.
"Who wrote that?"
"Could have been anyone," Rebecca said.
Clara approached the old keyboard.
Several keys were missing.
She pressed one that remained.
No sound.
The instrument had no power supply.
She opened the compartment beneath it and found a worn instructional booklet.
On the last page, someone had written a name.
MARA KELLER.
Clara repeated it.
Dante shook his head.
"I don't recognize her."
Peter did.
"Mara Keller taught music here."
Clara turned.
"Where is she now?"
"Last I heard, she was working at a public school in Rochester."
Rebecca made a note.
They finished the inspection without discovering the missing ledger.
Still, there were enough questions to justify further investigation.
On the drive home, Clara called Leo.
He answered on the second ring.
"Did you find the house?"
"Yes."
"Was it blue?"
"The music room was."
A pause.
"Did it have a good piano?"
"Not anymore."
"That's sad."
"It is."
Leo was quiet.
Then he asked, "Did you find Evelyn?"
"No."
"Do you think she's scared?"
Clara looked out the window.
"I don't know."
"I would be."
"Why?"
"Because everyone keeps talking about her like she's a mystery instead of a person."
Clara closed her eyes briefly.
"You're right."
"Can I send her a message?"
"We don't know how to reach her."
"I can write one anyway."
Clara smiled.
"Yes. You can."
That evening, Leo wrote a note.
He rejected three versions.
The first sounded too formal.
The second asked too many questions.
The third said, We are looking for you, which he decided might frighten her.
His final message contained only three sentences.
Hi, Evelyn. I'm Leo. You don't have to explain anything about yourself to me. If you want to talk about music, I can listen.
He handed the paper to Clara.
"That's enough."
"It is," she agreed.
Meanwhile, Rebecca contacted Mara Keller.
The former music teacher initially refused to speak.
When Rebecca mentioned Haven House, Mara said she had nothing to discuss.
When Rebecca mentioned Sofia Moretti, the line went silent.
Finally, Mara asked:
"Is Leo safe?"
Rebecca frowned.
"Why would you ask that?"
"Because Sofia said the same thing every time she visited."
"What did she say?"
Mara's voice trembled.
"She said that if anything ever happened to her, the people involved would eventually come after the only person who could identify what was missing."
Rebecca sat upright.
"Who?"
Mara hesitated.
"The child who remembered the sounds."
Rebecca thought of Leo's extraordinary attention to musical details.
But she refused to assume that meant he was the child Mara meant.
"What sounds?"
Mara began crying.
"I can't do this over the phone."
"Where can we meet?"
"Tomorrow morning. There's a diner across from the Rochester train station."
Rebecca wrote down the address.
Mara added one final warning.
"Don't bring Dante Moretti."
"Why?"
"Because the man who changed the children's records used his father's signature."
Rebecca became very still.
"Whose father's signature?"
Mara answered.
"Dante's."
The call ended.
Rebecca stared at her notes.
For years, everyone had believed Matteo Rinaldi and Carlo Moretti were responsible for the foundation's hidden financial misconduct.
But the records Mara described implicated someone else.
Someone with access to the Moretti name long before Dante inherited the organization.
And when Rebecca checked the dates on the Haven House documents, she discovered something horrifying.
The first altered guardianship forms had been filed when Dante was only twenty-three.
Five years before he became head of the family.
May you like
Someone had been using his identity for nearly two decades.
And the most recent suspicious transaction had occurred that very morning.
