“Take your daughter to my study,” he said. “Now.”
The study smelled of leather and old books. Lily sat perched on a chair too big for her, feet dangling. Nathaniel remained standing.
“Start from the beginning,” he said. “Every detail.”
Lily swallowed. “I was five when I went there. Caleb was already there. He was maybe ten. He never talked. He just drew. Houses. The ocean. Dogs.”
“Did he ever speak?” Nathaniel asked.
“After a long time. To me. He said he missed his dog. He said his name was Scout.”
Nathaniel’s knees nearly buckled.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded crayon drawing—two stick children holding hands, a large brown dog towering protectively beside them.
“He gave it to me,” she said softly. “When an older boy tried to steal my locket.”
Nathaniel’s gaze snapped to the silver chain at her neck.
“That locket—”
“My grandpa gave it to me,” Lily said. “Captain Evan Hale. He said I was brave.”
Nathaniel knew the name. A decorated veteran. A man beyond reproach.
“What happened to Caleb?” Nathaniel asked quietly.
“He ran away,” Lily whispered. “Three years ago. He said he remembered a gate. Big black iron. With a letter on it.”