Chapter 3 - The Woman in the East Wing
The estate had an east wing that Diane kept locked.
When Claire first arrived, Diane said the rooms were being renovated.
But no workers ever came.
Sometimes, late at night, Claire heard footsteps beyond the locked corridor.
Once she heard a woman crying.
Mark claimed the sound came from the old plumbing.
On the morning after the needle appeared in her suitcase, Claire asked him for the east-wing key.
“There isn’t one,” he said too quickly.
“Every lock has a key.”
“My mother keeps that area closed.”
“Why?”
“Storage.”
“I heard someone in there.”
Mark looked away.
“You’re stressed.”
Claire stepped closer.
“Who is in the east wing?”
“No one.”
“Then open it.”
His face hardened.
“I have a meeting.”
He left without another word.
That afternoon, Diane ordered Claire to clean the silverware in the formal dining room.
Claire refused.
Diane stood across from her with the needle between two fingers.
It was the same kind Claire had found in the suitcase.
Long, thin, with black thread looped through the eye.
“Do you recognize this?” Diane asked.
Claire’s throat tightened.
“You put it in my room.”
“I found it among your things.”
“That’s a lie.”
Diane examined the needle in the sunlight.
“My mother believed a woman’s mouth was the source of nearly every family disaster.”
Claire said nothing.
“She had methods for teaching silence.”
“You need help.”
Diane smiled.
“So did the last woman who lived here.”
Claire’s heart began to pound.
“What last woman?”
But Diane walked away.
That evening, Claire searched the house while Diane attended a charity dinner and Mark went to meet a creditor.
The east-wing door had an old brass lock.
Claire tried hairpins, a letter opener, and the small blade of a nail file. Nothing worked.
Then she remembered the ring of keys Diane kept in her dressing room.
Claire entered the room carefully.
Diane’s perfume filled the air.
The keys were not in the top drawer where Claire had seen them before.
She searched the wardrobe, the vanity, and the cabinet beside the bed.
Inside the cabinet, beneath a stack of legal documents, she found a photograph.
It showed Mark standing on the front steps of the estate beside a young woman Claire had never seen.
The woman had dark hair, a pale face, and a frightened smile.
Diane stood behind them.
Someone had scratched the woman’s eyes from the photograph.
On the back were three words.
MARK AND ELENA, 2018.
Claire heard a car outside.
She returned everything to the cabinet and hurried from the room.
Diane entered the house less than a minute later.
Claire was halfway down the staircase when Diane looked up.
Their eyes met.
Diane’s expression revealed nothing.
“Did you enjoy your afternoon?” she asked.
Claire forced herself to keep walking.
“Yes.”
“Find anything interesting?”
Claire stopped.
Diane removed her gloves one finger at a time.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You will.”
At dinner, Diane was unusually pleasant.
She talked about the charity event, the mayor’s wife, and a new surgical center being funded by the Bennett Foundation.
Mark returned late.
He barely spoke.
After Diane retired, Claire confronted him in the library.
“Who is Elena?”
Mark dropped the folder he was holding.
The papers scattered across the floor.
Claire watched his face.
Not confusion.
Terror.
“Where did you hear that name?”
“I found a photograph.”
“You went into my mother’s room?”
“Who is she?”
Mark rushed to the library door and closed it.
“Lower your voice.”
“Was she your wife?”
“No.”
“Girlfriend?”
He did not answer.
Claire felt cold.
“What happened to her?”
Mark walked to the window.
For several seconds, he stared at his reflection in the glass.
“Elena worked for my mother.”
“That photograph did not look like an employee picture.”
“We were engaged.”
Claire struggled to breathe.
“You never told me.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“Where is she?”
Mark turned.
“I don’t know.”
“Why are her eyes scratched out?”
“My mother hated her.”
“Why?”
“Because Elena tried to expose something.”
Claire waited.
Mark’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“After she disappeared, the police searched the house.”
Claire looked toward the locked corridor.
“The east wing?”
Mark nodded.
“What did they find?”
“Nothing.”
Claire moved closer.
“What was Elena trying to expose?”
Before he could answer, three slow knocks sounded from inside the wall.
Mark went completely still.
The sound came again.
Three knocks.
A pause.
Then three more.
Claire stared toward the east wing.
“Someone is in there.”
Mark grabbed her arm.
“Go upstairs.”
“Open the door.”
“Claire, listen to me.”
The knocking became louder.
Then a woman’s voice drifted through the corridor.
Weak.
Hoarse.
“Mark?”
Claire pulled away from him.
May you like
The voice spoke again.
“Please don’t leave me here.”
