Chapter 3 - THE MESSAGE BENEATH THE BED
William searched the west wing that evening.
Isabella insisted the knocking had come from the old pipes, but William ordered Mr. Langley to unlock every room.
Emma watched from the servants’ landing as they moved through the corridor.
Nothing was found.
The guest rooms were empty.
The wardrobes contained only dust covers.
The locked double doors at the end of the hallway opened into a storage chamber filled with furniture.
The antique painting did not move when William pushed against it.
Ethan did not cry.
By midnight, Isabella had persuaded William that exhaustion was affecting his judgment.
He retired to his room, but Emma remained awake.
At one in the morning, someone slid an envelope beneath her bedroom door.
Inside was a child’s drawing.
It showed a black door with three locks.
A woman was drawn behind it.
Above the door, in uneven letters, Ethan had written:
SHE KNOWS MY NAME.
On the back was another message.
BED 7.
Emma woke Nora and showed her the drawing.
“There is no Bed Seven,” Nora whispered. “This isn’t a hospital.”
“Maybe it used to be.”
They went to the old staff records room in the basement. Nora kept watch while Emma searched through property documents and renovation plans.
Sterling Manor had been built in 1894, but the west wing had been redesigned forty years earlier by William’s father.
The blueprint showed a narrow service corridor behind the west hallway.
It also showed a staircase descending to a series of rooms not included on the modern floor plan.
At the bottom of the page were the words:
PRIVATE RECOVERY SUITE
AUTHORIZED FAMILY ACCESS ONLY
“Bed Seven,” Emma said.
Nora’s face went pale.
“My grandmother worked here when William was a child. She told me his father brought doctors to the mansion at night.”
“What kind of doctors?”
“She never said.”
A door opened upstairs.
They extinguished the flashlight.
Footsteps descended into the basement.
Nora pulled Emma behind a row of wine crates.
Isabella entered with a man Emma had never seen before.
He wore a gray suit and carried a medical case.
“You assured me he would remain sedated,” Isabella said.
“The dosage is already dangerous,” the man replied. “The boy has barely eaten.”
“He escaped the room.”
“He escaped because you left him alone during a panic episode.”
“He found the passage. That is the problem.”
The man lowered his voice.
“The greater problem is the woman behind the lower door.”
Isabella stopped walking.
“You do not speak about her.”
“She is becoming lucid.”
“She has been becoming lucid for seven years.”
“She said William’s name this morning.”
Isabella’s face hardened.
“Then increase the dosage.”
“She may not survive.”
“That would solve one problem.”
The man looked sick.
“And create another. There would be records.”
“There will be no records after tomorrow night.”
“What happens tomorrow night?”
Isabella smiled.
“William signs the final merger documents during the engagement celebration. After that, the board will recognize my authority over the foundation and the family trust.”
“And the child?”
“He returns to Maine.”
“There is no school in Maine.”
“There will be enough evidence to convince William that his unstable son ran away.”
Emma felt Nora’s fingers close around her wrist.
The man opened his medical case and removed several vials.
“You are asking me to commit murder.”
“No,” Isabella said. “I am paying you to prevent a scandal.”
She walked toward a steel cabinet at the far end of the basement.
Emma leaned forward.
Isabella entered a code.
The cabinet swung open like a door.
Behind it was a stone staircase leading downward.
The man followed her.
Before the door closed, Emma heard a child scream.
Nora nearly cried out.
Emma covered her mouth.
When the cabinet locked again, the two women remained hidden for several minutes.
Then Nora whispered, “We need the police.”
“With what evidence?”
“The drawing. The blueprints.”
“Isabella will claim they are meaningless. We need William.”
“He might believe her.”
“He asked about his son before he even took off his coat.”
Emma moved toward the cabinet.
Nora grabbed her.
“Where are you going?”
“Downstairs.”
“You heard what they said.”
“That boy is being drugged.”
“And there is someone else behind the door.”
Emma studied the keypad.
Four numbers were worn smooth from repeated use.
One, seven, eight, and nine.
She remembered the date engraved beneath the portrait in the entrance hall.
Sterling Manor completed, 1897.
Emma entered 1897.
May you like
The steel cabinet clicked open.
Behind it, darkness waited.
