Sign the Papers Mr. Langford novel Chapter 182

Lydia shook her head. "They're long gone. After Vivian passed, Quentin was worried Wren would get upset seeing them, so he packed everything away."

"Packed away where?"

"The Whitaker Vault," Lydia said, immediately shooting a glance at Quentin.

Quentin stood outside the doorway, his face dark.

"The vault was cleared out, too."

Wren said, "I want to see it."

"There's nothing there."

"Then let me see how empty it is."

Quentin was instantly at a loss for words.

The group made their way down to The Whitaker Vault.

The vault was much damper than upstairs.

When the lights flickered on, the air smelled of stale wood mixed with dehumidifying agents. Boxes were piled against the walls—Christmas decorations, old furniture, and a few unlabeled cardboard boxes.

Mrs. Higgins was called down to unlock the door.

She looked visibly anxious, keeping her head down, too afraid to meet Wren's eyes. She was glad Miss Whitaker was back, but she also knew the young woman was never happy in this house.

Wren knelt down, inspecting the boxes one by one.

They were mostly filled with old curtains, replaced dishware, and decorative trinkets Lydia had discarded years ago.

No records belonging to Vivian.

No sign of The Cobalt Folder.

Not even a single old book.

As Phoebe checked the very last box, she frowned. "These boxes aren't old. Three or four years, at most."

Mr. Lawson noticed it, too. "Mr. Whitaker, Ms. Vance passed away many years ago. Where are the older belongings?"

Quentin kept a stoic face. "We threw them out when we were organizing during a move."

Wren looked up. "When has The Whitaker Estate ever moved?"

Quentin didn't answer.

The vault was so silent they could hear a pipe dripping.

Drip.

Drip.

Wren stood up and looked at Mrs. Higgins.

"Mrs. Higgins, did you pack up the things in my mother's study back then?"

Mrs. Higgins paled instantly.

Lydia quickly interjected, "Wren, don't badger the staff. How is she supposed to remember something from so long ago?"

Wren didn't break eye contact.

Mrs. Higgins gripped the hem of her apron. After a long moment, she whispered, "I only packed the books and some document bags. Later on, Mr. Whitaker had someone take them away."

Quentin barked, "Mrs. Higgins!"

The older woman flinched in fear, not daring to utter another word. She wanted Wren to uncover the truth, but she was terrified.

A heavy feeling settled in Wren's chest.

"Who took them?"

Mrs. Higgins shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "Miss Whitaker, I really don't know. I just remember there was a blue... a hardcover folder. Mrs. Vance used to keep it in the right drawer of her desk. I haven't seen it since."

Blue.

Hardcover.

Right desk drawer.

Wren's fingers slowly curled into a fist.

So her memory hadn't failed her after all.

Quentin looked awful as he snapped in agitation.

"Mrs. Higgins is getting up there in age. She's probably just misremembering."

Mrs. Higgins lowered her head, not daring to argue.

Wren stared at Quentin.

"Is she misremembering, or did you take it?"

Quentin exploded. "Wren Whitaker, you're interrogating your own father over some useless folder? I am your father!"

"I just asked if you took it. I never denied that you're my father."

"I didn't." Quentin guiltily turned his head away.

"Great."

Wren nodded.

She pulled out her phone and hit stop on the voice recorder.

Quentin's expression twisted. "You're recording?"

"Since the moment I walked through the door. I wouldn't come here unprepared."

"Mrs. Higgins's testimony is enough. At the very least, it proves The Cobalt Folder existed."

Wren leaned back against the seat, her thoughts drifting.

Outside the window, the gates of The Whitaker Estate faded into the distance.

Yet, the image of that dressing room remained burned into her retinas.

Those heels, those bags, those perfumes.

And that tiny sliver of old wooden molding exposed behind the cabinet.

When she was a child, she had once fallen asleep against the bookshelf after drawing for too long. When she woke up, her mother's coat was draped over her, and the desk lamp was still shining.

Now, that lamp was gone. The desk was gone. Even the room itself had a new name.

Wren closed her eyes.

After a long time, her focus returning, she murmured, "In the right drawer of the desk."

Phoebe glanced back in surprise. "What?"

"My mom's folder. She used to keep it there."

"The desk is long gone."

"Which means we need to find out where the desk went."

Phoebe nodded.

As the car crossed an intersection, Wren's phone lit up.

It was Lawrence Langford.

[Did you go to The Whitaker Estate?]

Wren glanced at it but didn't reply.

A few seconds later, a second message chimed in.

[Don't look into this alone.]

She placed her phone face down on her lap.

Phoebe asked, "Who was that?"

"Lawrence."

"What did he say?"

Wren looked out the window.

"Nonsense."