Chapter 3 - Nathan’s Secret Return
Claire called Nathan immediately.
He answered after the fourth ring.
“Claire, I’m about to enter a meeting.”
“Someone is moving through the house and stealing from locked rooms.”
Silence followed.
“What do you mean?”
“I installed cameras. I have recordings.”
“You installed cameras in the house?”
“To protect Rosa and the others. Your mother is accusing everyone.”
Nathan lowered his voice.
“Claire, you should have discussed that with me.”
“Your mother just accused Emma of stealing a sapphire brooch.”
“She what?”
“She found a hair clip in her bedroom and decided that was evidence.”
Nathan sighed.
“I will call her.”
“That is not enough.”
“What do you want me to do from Boston?”
“Tell her clearly that she cannot question or punish Emma.”
“I will handle it.”
“Today, Nathan. Not later.”
“I said I will handle it.”
Claire looked at Emma, who was still sitting on the bed.
“Are you actually in Boston?”
The silence lasted half a second too long.
“Of course I am.”
“Then send me a picture.”
“What?”
“A picture of you in Boston.”
“Claire, this is ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
“I have to go.”
The call ended.
Claire remained motionless.
Nathan had never lied well. He spoke too quickly, then became offended when questioned.
She opened their shared banking application.
There were no hotel charges in Boston.
No restaurant purchases.
No transportation receipts.
Nathan had used his credit card at a gas station less than forty miles from Blackwood House the previous night.
Claire felt the room change around her.
She checked the family vehicle tracking application. Nathan’s car had been disabled from the system two days earlier.
Someone did not want her to know where he was.
Claire looked at the half-packed suitcase.
The roads were dangerous, but staying felt worse.
She called the nearest hotel.
The manager confirmed there were rooms available, though the main highway might close within an hour.
Claire carried the suitcase downstairs.
Margaret waited in the entrance hall.
“You are being dramatic.”
“I am protecting my daughter.”
“From questions?”
“From you.”
Margaret’s expression became colder.
“Nathan will not forgive this.”
Claire stopped beside the front door.
“Where is he?”
Margaret’s eyes flickered.
“In Boston.”
“You answered too quickly.”
“I do not know what you are suggesting.”
“Nathan used his credit card forty miles from here last night.”
Margaret’s composure returned.
“Perhaps there is an explanation.”
“There usually is when this family lies.”
Claire reached for the door.
Margaret stepped forward.
“You should not drive in this weather.”
For the first time, the concern in her voice sounded genuine.
That frightened Claire more than the threat.
“Why do you suddenly care?”
“I care about Emma.”
“No. You care about controlling what happens next.”
Margaret glanced toward the staircase.
Claire followed her gaze.
A shadow moved across the upper landing.
Someone was inside the house.
“Who is upstairs?” Claire asked.
“No one.”
“I saw someone.”
“It was probably Rosa.”
“Rosa went to the market.”
Margaret moved between Claire and the stairs.
“You are tired and emotional.”
Claire took out her phone.
“I’m calling the police.”
Margaret grabbed her wrist.
The contact lasted only a second, but Claire saw panic in the older woman’s face.
“Do not bring strangers into this family’s affairs.”
Claire pulled away.
“What are you hiding?”
A door closed upstairs.
Claire lifted Emma into her arms.
Margaret stepped back.
“You will destroy your marriage over a misunderstanding.”
“No,” Claire said. “The lies will destroy it.”
She opened the front door.
Wind drove snow across the steps.
The hotel could wait.
Claire needed to know who was inside the house and why Nathan had lied about leaving town.
But first, she needed Emma somewhere safe.
She called her sister, Julia, who lived twenty minutes away.
Julia answered immediately.
“Bring her to me,” she said. “I have four-wheel drive. I’ll meet you halfway.”
Claire ended the call and looked toward the staircase again.
The upper landing was empty.
But on the polished floor near Nathan’s study, something reflected the light.
May you like
A wet footprint.
Too large to belong to Margaret.
