Chapter 4 - Emma Remembered the Locked Room)
Juliette was taken to the police station shortly before midnight.
Her attorney arrived before she answered a single formal question.
Christopher watched the cruiser disappear beyond the estate gates.
He expected relief.
Instead he felt exposed.
The mansion suddenly seemed too large.
Every hallway contained a shadow.
Every locked door seemed to hide something.
He carried Emma upstairs himself.
She had been examined again by a pediatric physician and cleared to remain home under observation.
Christopher refused to let her sleep alone.
He placed her in his bed and sat beside her until her breathing became steady.
At 2:17 a.m., Emma opened her eyes.
"Daddy?"
"I'm here."
"Is Julie gone?"
Christopher brushed damp hair from her forehead.
"Yes."
"Forever?"
He wanted to say yes.
He couldn't.
"She can't hurt you tonight."
Emma looked toward the bedroom door.
"What about the man?"
Christopher froze.
"What man?"
Emma pulled the blanket higher.
"The man in Mommy's room."
Christopher's pulse quickened.
"What room?"
"The room with the yellow flowers."
Rachel's old dressing room.
It had been locked for nearly three years.
Christopher had never converted it.
He rarely entered it.
Juliette claimed the room made her uncomfortable, so Christopher kept it closed.
"When did you see a man there?"
Emma looked confused.
"I didn't."
"You just said there was a man."
"I heard him."
Christopher leaned closer.
"When?"
"Today."
"What did he say?"
Emma squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember.
"Julie said I wasn't supposed to come upstairs."
"Okay."
"But Bunny was upstairs."
Bunny was a stuffed rabbit Emma carried everywhere.
"I went to get him."
Christopher waited.
"The yellow room was open."
His stomach tightened.
"What did you hear?"
"A man was mad."
"Do you remember what he said?"
Emma nodded slowly.
"He said Julie had one job."
Christopher tried to keep his face calm.
"What else?"
Emma whispered, "He said if she got scared again, he'd do it himself."
Christopher's hand stopped moving.
"Do what himself?"
Emma opened her eyes.
"Make me disappear."
At 2:31 a.m., Detective Cole was back inside the mansion.
By 2:40, three officers were searching Rachel's dressing room.
The lock showed no visible damage.
But a technician found fresh scratches near the internal bolt.
Someone had used a key.
Christopher stood in the doorway while Cole searched.
Nothing appeared disturbed at first.
Then Yvette pointed toward an antique wardrobe.
"That shouldn't be there."
"What?"
"The bench."
A small upholstered bench had been moved several inches from the wall.
Behind it was a narrow service panel.
Christopher had forgotten it existed.
The mansion had been built in 1928.
Servants once moved between rooms using hidden corridors.
Most had been sealed during renovations.
This one had not.
Cole opened the panel.
A narrow passage disappeared into darkness.
They followed it.
The corridor ended behind the old nursery.
Another panel opened into a room Christopher had not entered since Emma was a baby.
Dust covered most surfaces.
But there were footprints on the floor.
Several sets.
One belonged to a woman wearing narrow heels.
The other was larger.
Male.
Cole crouched.
"Recent."
Christopher looked around.
"Why come in here?"
Yvette pointed toward the wall.
A painting had been removed.
Behind it was a small safe.
Christopher stared.
"I didn't know that was there."
Evelyn had stayed at the mansion.
She looked equally surprised.
"Neither did I."
The safe required a six digit code.
Christopher tried Rachel's birthday.
Nothing.
Their wedding anniversary.
Nothing.
Emma's birthday.
The lock clicked.
Christopher stopped breathing.
Inside were three objects.
A flash drive.
A sealed envelope.
And a photograph.
Christopher lifted the photograph first.
It showed Rachel standing beside his father approximately six years earlier.
Between them was Grant Mercer.
On the back, Rachel had written a date.
September 14.
Christopher remembered the date immediately.
It was the day Rachel had told him she was pregnant.
He picked up the envelope.
The words on the front were in Rachel's handwriting.
For Christopher only.
He opened it.
Inside was a short note.
Chris,
If anything happens to me, do not let Grant near Emma.
I know what he believes.
I know what your father did.
And I know why Grant will never stop.
Christopher's hands trembled.
The note ended there.
Cole looked over his shoulder.
"What did your father do?"
Christopher shook his head.
"I don't know."
Evelyn was staring at the photograph.
"What?"
Christopher asked.
She pointed at Grant's hand.
He wore a signet ring.
A black stone surrounded by silver.
Christopher remembered seeing the same ring countless times.
But Yvette made a small sound.
Christopher turned.
"What is it?"
She had gone pale.
"I saw that ring."
"When?"
Yvette looked at the hidden corridor.
"The night Mrs. Whitmore died."
Christopher stared at her.
Rachel had died after her car went through a barrier on a mountain road.
The police report called it an accident.
Heavy rain.
Poor visibility.
No other vehicle found.
Christopher had accepted the report because grief had left him incapable of questioning anything.
Now Yvette's hands were shaking.
"You told me you were off that night."
"I lied."
"Why?"
"Because Mrs. Whitmore asked me to."
Christopher's voice hardened.
"Rachel asked you to lie?"
Yvette began crying quietly.
"She told me if anyone ever asked, I had to say I never saw him."
"Who?"
She looked down at the photograph.
"Grant."
Christopher felt the floor beneath him disappear.
"He was here?"
"At the mansion."
"When?"
Yvette swallowed.
"Less than an hour before Rachel drove away."
The room went silent.
Christopher looked toward the safe.
The flash drive remained inside.
Cole reached for it.
Before he touched it, his phone vibrated.
He checked the screen.
Then looked directly at Christopher.
"Grant Mercer's house is empty."
Christopher's jaw tightened.
"Where is he?"
"We don't know."
Cole paused.
"But his vehicle was caught on a traffic camera forty minutes ago."
"Where?"
May you like
Cole's answer made Christopher turn toward Emma's bedroom.
"Two miles from your property."
