Chapter 2 - the empty nursery
Rebecca locked the connecting door the following night.
In the morning, it was unlocked.
She checked the brass mechanism twice. It was old but functional. The key remained on her bedside table where she had left it.
When Rebecca asked the housekeeper whether anyone had entered, Mrs. Crowley looked toward the ceiling camera before answering.
“Mrs. Hale has keys to every room.”
“My mother?”
“She says it is necessary for emergencies.”
“What emergency happened last night?”
Mrs. Crowley’s hands tightened around the laundry basket.
“You should ask Mrs. Hale.”
Judith was in the breakfast room reviewing invitations for Lily’s welcome celebration.
Rebecca stopped at the end of the table.
“Did you unlock my door?”
Judith did not look up.
“I checked on the baby.”
“You had no permission.”
“This is my house.”
“That is my daughter.”
Vanessa entered carrying coffee.
“Why are you shouting?”
“I’m not shouting.”
“You sound upset.”
“I am upset.”
Judith made a note on one invitation.
“Another example of emotional instability.”
Rebecca stared at her.
Vanessa placed the coffee beside Judith.
“No one is accusing you of anything.”
“You just did.”
“We’re concerned.”
The word had already become a weapon.
Rebecca returned upstairs and began packing.
She had enough savings for a hotel and a few weeks of rent. She could find work remotely once Lily’s sleep schedule settled. The plan was imperfect, but every instinct told her to leave before concern became control.
She had zipped the suitcase when Walter appeared in the doorway.
He did not enter.
“Going somewhere?”
“A hotel.”
“You should.”
Rebecca paused.
It was the first time anyone in the house had agreed with her.
Walter looked over his shoulder.
“Not today.”
“Why not?”
“Your car is being serviced.”
“I didn’t request service.”
“Judith did.”
Rebecca crossed the room.
“Dad, what is happening?”
Walter studied her face.
For a moment she thought he might answer honestly.
Then footsteps approached from the stairs.
His expression closed.
“Lock the nursery window,” he said.
“It is locked.”
“Check it again.”
He walked away as Vanessa reached the landing.
Rebecca waited until both disappeared before entering the nursery.
The window latch appeared secure.
She pushed against the frame.
It opened without resistance.
The screws had been removed from the latch and placed back loosely enough to create the appearance of security.
Rebecca photographed them with her phone.
Then she examined the room.
The carved cradle was old, perhaps older than the house’s other furniture. One side bore faint scratches. Rebecca moved it away from the wall and discovered a narrow gap in the floorboards.
Inside lay a folded scrap of paper.
The ink had faded, but the handwriting was readable.
They will say you are tired.
They will say you are confused.
Do not drink what they bring you.
Rebecca read the message three times.
A floorboard creaked in the hall.
She shoved the paper into her pocket.
Vanessa stood in the doorway.
“What did you find?”
“Nothing.”
“You moved the cradle.”
“I dropped Lily’s pacifier.”
Vanessa glanced toward the floor, then at Rebecca’s face.
“You look pale.”
“I haven’t slept.”
“I can take Lily tonight.”
“No.”
“You need rest.”
“I said no.”
Vanessa entered and ran one finger along the cradle.
“This was mine.”
“The cradle?”
“Mom bought it when I was a child. She used to say the first daughter would give her the first granddaughter.”
Rebecca felt the note in her pocket.
“That isn’t how families work.”
“No,” Vanessa said softly. “It isn’t how fair families work.”
Lily stirred in the bassinet.
Vanessa looked at her with an expression that was not quite affection.
“Mom thinks you should name me as temporary guardian.”
“That will never happen.”
“It might be wise.”
“It will never happen.”
Vanessa’s eyes lifted.
“You said the same thing about coming home.”
After she left, Rebecca called the mechanic listed on the service receipt.
He had no record of her car.
She hurried outside and found the vehicle exactly where she had parked it.
The engine started, but the gates did not open.
Rebecca pressed the intercom.
No response.
She called Judith.
Her mother answered from somewhere inside the house.
“The gates are malfunctioning,” Judith said.
“Open them manually.”
“The technician will come tomorrow.”
Rebecca looked toward the security booth.
A man she did not recognize stood inside, watching her.
“I’m leaving through the side gate.”
“That would be dramatic.”
“I don’t care.”
“Rebecca, the family attorney is arriving in ten minutes.”
“For what?”
“To discuss Evelyn’s trust.”
May you like
“I’m not interested.”
“You will be when you learn what Noah changed three days before he died.”
