Chapter 2 - the girl behind the service door)
The Whitmore ballroom had been designed to make ordinary people feel small.
Its ceiling rose nearly thirty feet above the marble floor.
Three crystal chandeliers hung from golden fixtures.
Tall arched windows overlooked the gardens.
A string quartet played beside a wall covered in white roses.
More than two hundred guests filled the room.
Richard moved through them like royalty.
Evan followed in his wheelchair.
Every few feet someone stopped him.
"You are such an inspiration."
"What a brave young man."
"Your father is changing lives."
Evan smiled because his father had taught him when the cameras first started following them.
Smile for donors.
Smile for reporters.
Smile for doctors.
Especially smile when someone says brave.
At the center of the ballroom stood a large sign announcing the Richard Whitmore Center for Pediatric Mobility.
Twenty million dollars raised.
Another ten million expected tonight.
All because the public loved the story of a grieving father dedicating his fortune to helping children after losing his wife and nearly losing his son.
Evan had heard the speech so many times he could recite it.
He watched Richard laughing with Governor Patterson.
Then he noticed something.
A small face appeared behind a service door near the kitchens.
A girl.
She disappeared immediately.
Evan turned his wheelchair slightly.
The green joystick light blinked.
The medicine Marcus had given him made his head feel heavy.
But curiosity was stronger.
He moved toward the service corridor.
No one stopped him.
Everyone assumed a wheelchair could not run away.
The corridor was narrow and dim compared with the ballroom.
Steel catering carts lined the walls.
At the far end, a door swung closed.
Evan followed.
"Hello?"
No answer.
He moved farther.
"Are you lost?"
A whisper came from behind a stack of table linens.
"No."
The girl stepped out.
She was the same age as Evan, perhaps a little younger.
Her brown dress was dirty.
One knee had a fresh scrape.
Her feet were bare.
Evan stared at her.
She stared back.
"You shouldn't be here," he said.
"Neither should you."
"I live here."
"That doesn't mean you should be here."
Evan frowned.
She took one step closer.
"What's your name?"
"Evan."
"I know."
Something about the way she said it made him uncomfortable.
"Who are you?"
"Nia."
"How did you get inside?"
Nia glanced toward the ballroom.
"Your house has old tunnels."
Evan laughed.
"No, it doesn't."
"Yes, it does."
"I've lived here my whole life."
"So did your mother."
The smile vanished from Evan's face.
Nia saw it.
She lowered her voice.
"My grandmother told me you'd look like her around the eyes."
"Don't talk about my mother."
"Why?"
"Because you didn't know her."
Nia reached inside the torn pocket of her dress.
Evan immediately became tense.
She pulled out a small silver object.
A pendant.
Evan's heart stopped.
It was shaped like a crescent moon.
His mother had worn it every day.
He remembered it resting against her neck while she tucked him into bed.
The police report said the necklace had been lost in the accident.
"Where did you get that?"
Nia closed her hand around it.
"She gave it to my grandmother."
"You're lying."
"My grandmother said you'd say that."
"Give it to me."
"Not yet."
Evan moved the wheelchair closer.
"Give it to me."
Nia stepped backward.
"Your father can't see it."
"My father bought it for her."
"That's why he can't see it."
Evan's hands tightened around the armrests.
"Who is your grandmother?"
"Her name is Naomi Brooks."
The name meant nothing to him.
Nia continued.
"She used to work here."
"When?"
"Before the accident."
Evan felt a cold sensation crawl across his back.
"What did she do?"
"She helped your mother."
"With what?"
Nia looked toward the ceiling.
A security camera was mounted above the corridor.
She grabbed the handles behind Evan's wheelchair and pulled him beneath the camera's blind spot.
"She helped her hide things."
"What things?"
"Proof."
"Proof of what?"
Nia leaned close.
"That your accident wasn't an accident."
For several seconds Evan could hear nothing except the distant music from the ballroom.
Then footsteps approached.
Nia disappeared behind the linens.
A security guard turned the corner.
"Master Evan."
Evan forced his face to relax.
"Hi, Carl."
"What are you doing back here?"
"Looking for the bathroom."
Carl glanced toward the linen cart.
Then at Evan.
"I'll take you."
"I know where it is."
"Your father asked us to keep you near the ballroom."
Of course he had.
Carl reached for the wheelchair handles.
Evan hated when people pushed him without asking.
He quickly turned the joystick and moved back toward the ballroom.
Before leaving the corridor, he looked over his shoulder.
Nia was gone.
Only the crescent pendant remained on the floor.
Evan stopped.
Carl followed his gaze.
"What is it?"
"Nothing."
Evan rolled over the pendant.
Then, while Carl wasn't looking, he reached down and picked it up.
A tiny folded piece of paper was tucked inside.
Two words were written on it.
MIDNIGHT ROOM.
Evan knew every room in the mansion.
Except one.
May you like
Because there was no Midnight Room.
At least not anymore.
