THE FORGED RECORDS
I barely slept that night.
Claire had been gone for almost two years.
I had spent those years trying to build a normal life for Lily.
School.
Homework.
Dinner.
Bedtime stories.
I thought I knew every important detail about our family.
Apparently, I didn’t.
The next morning, I took the enrollment document to Sergeant Mercer.
She examined the signature carefully.
“Do you recognize this?”
“Yes.”
“Could your wife have signed it before she died?”
“No.”
“You’re certain?”
“Absolutely.”
Mercer placed the paper inside an evidence sleeve.
“We’ll investigate.”
Meanwhile, the school became defensive.
Warren suddenly claimed the scholarship document was an administrative mistake.
“An employee entered the wrong information.”
“Which employee?”
He hesitated.
“I’ll have to check.”
“Check quickly.”
The school’s custodian, a man named Lewis, later approached Mercer.
He had worked at Westbridge for fourteen years.
He told her the storage room had caused problems before.
“There were complaints about that door,” he said.
“How many?”
“Several.”
“Why wasn’t it repaired?”
Lewis looked uncomfortable.
“I submitted repair requests.”
“Where are they?”
“I don’t know.”
That afternoon, the school announced that the hallway cameras had malfunctioned.
All of them.
Only on the day Lily was locked inside.
Mercer didn’t believe it.
Neither did I.
That evening, another anonymous message arrived.
THE SCHOOL IS NOT THE BEGINNING.
I stared at the screen.
Then another message appeared.
ASK WHAT CLAIRE FOUND.
I opened the box where I kept Claire’s belongings.
Photographs.
Letters.
A scarf.
An old bracelet.
Nothing seemed connected.
Until I found a brochure.
Westbridge Academy.
The brochure was nine years old.
Lily wasn’t even born yet.
On the back, Claire had written:
Daniel, I visited Westbridge today. The campus is beautiful, but something felt wrong. I’ll explain when you’re home. Please remind me.
I sat down.
I remembered that period.
I had been deployed overseas.
Claire had called me several times.
We had talked about ordinary things.
Groceries.
Bills.
Her sister Rachel.
But she never mentioned Westbridge.
Or at least, I couldn’t remember it.
Then Lily came into the room.
“Dad?”
I quickly put the papers away.
“What’s wrong?”
She held a torn piece of paper.
“I found this at school.”
It was a piece of sheet music.
At the bottom were four handwritten words.
For Lily, when she’s ready.
Below them were several circled letters.
B.
A.
D.
G.
Then:
BADGE CABINET.
I looked at Lily.
“Where did you find this?”
“In the storage room.”
My stomach tightened.
The room where my daughter had been locked was connected to Claire.
And suddenly, I knew this wasn’t just about a teacher.
Someone had been hiding something at Westbridge for years.
