Chapter 3 - The Boys Who Never Slept
Daniel searched Amelia’s room for nearly two hours.
The bed remained exactly as it had been on the day he sealed the west wing. A pale silk robe hung behind the bathroom door. Three books rested on the nightstand. Her perfume lingered faintly in the curtains, though he knew that was impossible.
He found no music box.
He found no intruder.
He found only a photograph lying facedown inside the desk drawer.
Daniel had seen the photograph before.
Amelia stood outside a small cottage by the sea, smiling beside a teenage girl with dark hair.
The photograph had been taken fourteen years earlier.
The teenager looked painfully familiar.
Daniel carried the photograph to his study.
Marcus Hale was waiting.
“Her name is not Mara Ellison,” Marcus said.
Daniel placed the photograph on the desk.
“I know.”
Marcus looked down.
“That’s her.”
“Find out who she really is.”
“I’ve already sent the image to our identification service.”
Daniel poured two fingers of whiskey.
It was not yet noon.
Marcus glanced at the glass.
“You slept?”
“No.”
“The boys?”
“No.”
The twins had not slept through the night since Amelia’s death.
Doctors recommended routine, therapy, medication, calm music, reduced stimulation, increased exercise, separate bedrooms, shared bedrooms, weighted blankets, and grief support.
Nothing worked.
Ethan fought sleep as if it were an enemy.
Noah simply stared at the ceiling until morning.
Daniel often found them together beneath Amelia’s piano, curled on the floor with their eyes open.
“What do you want me to do about the maid?” Marcus asked.
“Watch her.”
“Not remove her?”
“Not yet.”
Daniel looked at the photograph.
Amelia had never told him about the girl.
There were many things Amelia had not told him.
During the last year of their marriage, she had become secretive. She changed passwords. She made calls from hotel lobbies. She withdrew cash in amounts too small to trigger bank notifications.
Daniel had suspected an affair.
The shame of that suspicion still burned.
After her death, he discovered she had been visiting a women’s shelter under a false name.
He never learned why.
A knock sounded.
Mrs. Finch entered without waiting.
“The twins are missing.”
Daniel was on his feet instantly.
“What?”
“They were with Mara in the laundry room. She turned away, and they disappeared.”
Marcus touched his radio.
Daniel pushed past him.
He found Mara in the servants’ corridor, checking cupboards and calling the boys’ names.
“You had one instruction,” Daniel said.
Mara turned.
“I was sorting linens.”
“You were told to stay away from them.”
“They followed me.”
“And now they are gone.”
“They are hiding.”
“You do not know that.”
“I do.”
“How?”
“Because Ethan took biscuits.”
Daniel stopped.
Mara held up an empty tin.
“He hides when he is angry. Noah goes with him because he does not like Ethan being alone.”
Daniel stared.
“How could you possibly know that?”
“I asked the cook.”
Mrs. Finch shook her head.
“The cook did not tell her.”
Mara looked annoyed.
“Then I noticed.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“You have known them for less than a day.”
“Children reveal more than adults when no one is listening.”
“Where are they?”
Mara looked toward the ceiling.
“The house has speaking tubes.”
Daniel frowned.
Old copper communication pipes ran through the walls, relics from the nineteenth century.
“They were disconnected decades ago.”
“Disconnected from the servants’ quarters. Not removed.”
Mara walked to a brass vent beside the linen cupboard.
She leaned close.
“Ethan, the biscuits are stale.”
A faint voice traveled through the pipe.
“They are not.”
Daniel looked at Marcus.
Mara continued.
“Noah, I found the blue blanket.”
Silence.
Then Noah whispered through the wall.
“Where?”
“In your room.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“No. But now I know you can hear me.”
A muffled thump followed.
Mara traced the copper pipe down the corridor.
“The line bends toward the nursery, then drops.”
Daniel followed her into the old library.
The twins were inside a hollow window seat concealed behind velvet curtains.
Ethan clutched the biscuit tin. Noah held Amelia’s missing music box.
Daniel stared at it.
“Where did you get that?”
Noah pressed the music box to his chest.
Ethan answered.
“Mom gave it to us.”
“That was in her room.”
“No.”
“I searched for it.”
“You search badly.”
Daniel crouched.
“Have you been inside the west wing?”
Both boys went still.
Mara noticed Noah’s bare feet were covered in white dust.
The same shade of dust that coated the west corridor.
“Ethan,” Daniel said, “tell me the truth.”
Ethan looked at Mara.
Not at his father.
Mara crouched beside Daniel.
“Did someone show you how to get inside?”
Noah’s lower lip trembled.
Ethan seized his brother’s hand.
“We don’t talk about her.”
Daniel felt the room tilt.
“About whom?”
Ethan squeezed Noah’s fingers.
May you like
Noah began to cry.
“The lady who looks like Mom.”
