Chapter 8 - The Greenhouse Trap
Detective Sloan refused to allow Rowan to carry the real seal to the estate.
A replica was produced from photographs while the original was secured in an evidence vault.
Rowan wore a concealed microphone beneath his shirt. Officers surrounded the estate from positions beyond the tree line.
The abandoned greenhouse stood at the end of a gravel path overgrown with weeds.
Most of its glass panels were cracked or missing. Ivy wrapped around the iron frame, and dead leaves covered the floor.
At five forty, Rowan entered alone.
“Mara?”
His voice echoed through the empty structure.
A portable speaker clicked on.
Julian’s voice emerged.
“Put the seal on the table.”
A metal table stood beneath the greenhouse’s central dome.
Rowan placed the replica on it.
“Show me Mara.”
“You saw the photograph.”
“I want to hear her voice.”
“That was not the agreement.”
“We never made an agreement.”
“You brought the seal. That is close enough.”
A figure moved behind the fogged glass at the far end.
Rowan stepped toward it.
“Stop,” Julian warned.
Rowan stopped.
“Why did you do this?”
“You think I wanted any of it?”
“You separated my family.”
“I gave Mara a chance to walk away.”
“From what?”
“From the trust.”
The figure behind the glass remained still.
Rowan could not tell whether it was Mara.
“Atlas House stole millions.”
“The money was never the purpose.”
“What was?”
“Control.”
“Of my company?”
“Of the beneficiary.”
Rowan looked toward the hidden officers’ positions, knowing they could hear every word.
“Who is the beneficiary?”
“You don’t know.”
“Tell me.”
Julian laughed quietly.
“That is why Mara became dangerous. She found a name your father erased.”
A mechanical click sounded beneath the table.
The seal replica dropped through a narrow opening and disappeared into a metal box.
Julian spoke again.
“Walk away.”
“Not without Mara.”
“You brought the wrong seal.”
Rowan’s heart lurched.
Julian knew.
A section of greenhouse glass shattered near the east wall. Officers entered from two directions.
The figure behind the fogged panel fell sideways.
It was a mannequin wearing Mara’s coat.
The portable speaker went silent.
Detective Sloan reached the table and examined the box underneath.
A wire led from it into the ground.
“This place was never the exchange,” she said. “It was a test.”
“For what?”
“To see whether we had the original.”
A vehicle engine roared beyond the estate.
Officers ran toward the road, but the vehicle was already moving away behind the trees.
Rowan looked at Mara’s coat on the mannequin.
Something protruded from the pocket.
He removed a hotel key card.
Westbridge Hotel.
Room 612.
Detective Sloan called the hotel and ordered officers dispatched.
Then Rowan noticed dark ink on the coat sleeve.
Three words had been written on the fabric.
HE KNOWS ORPHEUS.
“Who knows?” Rowan asked.
A faint sound came from beneath the greenhouse floor.
Not a voice.
Music.
A piano melody played through an old speaker hidden below the boards.
Orpheus in the Underworld.
Rowan followed the sound to a trapdoor covered by leaves.
Detective Sloan forced it open.
A narrow stairway descended into darkness.
At the bottom was a small underground room.
There was no Mara.
Only Eleanor Hale’s missing piano.
One white key had been pressed down by a metal weight.
When Rowan removed the weight, the music stopped.
Beneath the key was a handwritten note.
The handwriting belonged to his mother.
May you like
Gideon did not kill me.
The rest of the paper had been torn away.
