Chapter 7 - The Fire Below
Marcus fired twice at the lock.
The bullets struck metal.
“Reinforced,” he said.
The smell of gasoline filled the room.
Elena searched the walls.
“There was another exit.”
“How do you know?” Daniel asked.
“Amelia and I used to meet here.”
Flames appeared beneath the door.
Daniel pulled off his coat and pressed it against the gap.
Marcus overturned the desk to block the spreading fire.
Elena pushed aside one of the empty filing cabinets.
Behind it was a narrow iron hatch.
She pulled the handle.
It did not move.
“Locked.”
“Stand back.”
Daniel kicked it.
Nothing.
Smoke climbed toward the ceiling.
Marcus joined him.
Together, they struck the hatch until the rusted hinges broke.
Cold air rushed through the opening.
A stone tunnel sloped upward toward the cliffs.
They crawled inside as flames consumed the desk.
Daniel grabbed the recorder.
Elena went first, Marcus last.
The tunnel ended beneath a wooden trapdoor.
Elena pushed it open.
They emerged inside the ruined chapel fifty yards from the house.
Rain poured through the collapsed roof.
Marcus called the fire department while Daniel looked toward the estate.
A figure stood at an upstairs window.
A woman.
Even from a distance, Daniel saw the scar across her face.
He ran.
“Daniel!” Elena shouted.
He crossed the lawn as smoke rose from the cellar windows.
By the time he reached the house, the woman was gone.
But muddy footprints led from the staircase to the old portrait gallery.
The prints ended before a painting of Robert Whitmore.
Daniel pulled the portrait from the wall.
Behind it was a safe.
Elena entered the gallery.
“I never knew about that.”
Marcus examined the keypad.
“We need the code.”
Daniel stared at Robert’s portrait.
His uncle’s sailing accident occurred on August 17.
The chalk number in the passage had been 17.
Daniel entered 0817.
The safe opened.
Inside were four passports, stacks of cash, and a sealed medical file.
The file bore the logo of Saint Catherine’s Fertility Center.
Daniel opened it.
Patient: Amelia Caroline Whitmore.
Procedure: Embryo transfer.
Status: Unsuccessful.
Daniel read the page twice.
“That cannot be right.”
Elena took the file.
“The twins were born after fertility treatment.”
“The first procedure failed. The second succeeded.”
She turned the page.
There was no second procedure.
Instead, the file contained a consent form with a signature that resembled Amelia’s.
Daniel knew immediately it was false.
“What does it say?” Marcus asked.
Daniel read aloud.
“Authorization for gestational substitution.”
Elena went pale.
“A surrogate.”
Daniel turned another page.
The surrogate’s name had been blacked out.
The delivery report recorded four male infants.
Two were marked transferred to intended parents.
Two were marked deceased.
No death certificates were attached.
Daniel gripped the file.
“Who were the other twins?”
Elena studied a photograph clipped to the final page.
It showed four newborn boys in separate bassinets.
The image was blurred, but each infant wore a numbered bracelet.
Daniel recognized the blue blankets.
Ethan and Noah had come home wrapped in them.
On the back of the photograph, Amelia had written a note.
Two of them are ours.
But I no longer know which two.
A phone rang inside the safe.
All three of them stared.
It was an old mobile phone connected to a portable charger.
Daniel answered.
A distorted voice said, “You opened the door too soon.”
“Who are you?”
“Ask Elena what happened to her mother.”
Elena’s face drained of color.
The voice continued.
“Ask her why Amelia was driving to the coast.”
Then the call ended.
Daniel looked at Elena.
“What happened to your mother?”
Elena did not answer.
Outside, sirens approached.
Daniel stepped closer.
“Elena.”
“My mother did not die naturally.”
“What happened?”
“She was killed in a house fire.”
Daniel looked toward the smoke pouring from the cellar.
“When?”
“Three days after Amelia found me.”
“And you never thought that mattered?”
“I knew it mattered.”
Elena’s eyes filled with anger.
“That is why I stayed hidden.”
“Who killed her?”
“She told me it was a Whitmore.”
“Which Whitmore?”
Elena looked toward Robert’s portrait.
“She died before she could tell me.”
A loud crash shook the house.
Part of the cellar roof collapsed.
Marcus’s radio crackled.
A guard from Boston spoke through heavy static.
“Mr. Hale, we have a problem at the main estate.”
Marcus answered.
May you like
“What happened?”
“The twins are gone.”
