Chapter 15 - THE WOMAN WAITING BEHIND THE RED DOOR
Nathan refused to explain in the lobby.
Charlotte refused to wait.
Forty minutes later, they were driving north.
Mara came with them.
Alexander followed in a separate car.
Victoria stayed at the Solmere under federal protection while agents searched for her sister.
The address led to a quiet town in Connecticut.
Old trees.
Stone walls.
Large homes hidden behind long driveways.
Charlotte sat in silence beside Nathan.
Finally she asked:
“When were you there?”
“Seven years ago.”
“After my mother died.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“William sent me.”
Charlotte turned.
“My father knew about this house?”
“He found payments connected to it.”
“To whom?”
Nathan gripped the steering wheel.
“Eleanor Gray.”
Charlotte’s chest tightened.
“Did you see her?”
“No.”
“Then why are you afraid?”
“I saw her photograph.”
Charlotte stared.
Nathan continued.
“She looked like your mother.”
“How much?”
Nathan swallowed.
“Exactly like her.”
Charlotte looked out the window.
“Could have been an old photograph.”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“The date.”
“What date?”
“Two years after Eleanor Vale’s funeral.”
Charlotte pressed her hand against her mouth.
Mara spoke from the back seat.
“What did William do?”
“He came here himself.”
“And?”
Nathan shook his head.
“He never told me what happened inside.”
“Did he meet the woman?”
“I think so.”
“Why didn’t he tell Charlotte?”
Nathan looked at her.
“You’d have to ask him.”
Charlotte stared ahead.
That answer was unbearable because it was impossible.
They arrived shortly before midnight.
The house stood behind iron gates.
Not a mansion.
Large, elegant, old.
One upstairs light glowed.
The gate was unlocked.
Charlotte stepped out.
Alexander’s car stopped behind them.
He approached slowly.
“You sure?”
“No.”
Charlotte walked anyway.
The path ended at a red front door.
Her mother had loved red doors.
Every house Charlotte lived in as a child had one.
Coincidence, she told herself.
She climbed the steps.
Nathan remained several feet behind.
Mara stood beside Alexander.
Charlotte raised her hand.
Before she knocked, the door opened.
An elderly man stood there.
White hair.
Cardigan.
No surprise.
“Charlotte.”
She froze.
“How do you know me?”
The man looked past her.
At Nathan.
Then Alexander.
His expression hardened.
“You brought them.”
Charlotte stepped closer.
“Who are you?”
The man ignored the question.
“You shouldn’t have come.”
Charlotte almost laughed.
She had heard those words too many times.
“My father was here.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“Why?”
The man studied her.
“You have his eyes.”
Charlotte’s patience broke.
“Where is Eleanor Gray?”
Silence.
“Who is she?”
The man looked toward the dark hallway behind him.
Then back at Charlotte.
“She’s been waiting for you.”
Charlotte’s knees nearly weakened.
Nathan stepped forward.
“Charlotte.”
She lifted a hand.
No.
Not now.
The elderly man moved aside.
Charlotte entered.
The house smelled faintly of cedar and lavender.
Her mother had worn lavender perfume.
Charlotte hated herself for noticing.
On a table sat framed photographs.
Landscapes.
Gardens.
No people.
The man led them into a drawing room.
A fire burned.
One chair faced away from the door.
Charlotte stopped.
Someone sat in it.
A woman.
Gray hair.
Thin shoulders.
Charlotte could not see her face.
The man whispered:
“She said you would come when William’s secrets finally failed.”
Charlotte’s breath shook.
“Who is she?”
The woman in the chair moved.
Slowly.
Her hand appeared on the armrest.
A gold ring caught the firelight.
Charlotte recognized it instantly.
The Vale crest.
Crown above a V.
The woman spoke.
Her voice was older.
Weaker.
But Charlotte knew it.
She had heard that voice reading bedtime stories.
Calling her downstairs for breakfast.
Saying I love you on nights when Charlotte pretended to be asleep.
“Hello, Charlie.”
Charlotte forgot how to breathe.
Nobody had called her Charlie since her mother died.
The woman turned.
Charlotte stared at the face she had buried nine years earlier.
Older now.
Scarred near one temple.
But unmistakable.
Eleanor Vale.
Charlotte staggered backward.
“No.”
Eleanor’s eyes filled with tears.
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
“Charlotte…”
“No.”
Nathan reached toward her.
Charlotte stepped away.
Her mother stood.
Charlotte looked at Alexander.
He seemed as shocked as she was.
“You knew?” Charlotte demanded.
Alexander shook his head.
“No.”
She looked at Nathan.
“I swear to you.”
Charlotte turned back toward Eleanor.
“You died.”
“I nearly did.”
“I buried you.”
“I know.”
“I watched them close the coffin.”
Eleanor closed her eyes.
“I know.”
Charlotte’s voice cracked.
“You let me believe you were dead for nine years.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Eleanor looked toward the elderly man.
Then toward the windows.
Fear crossed her face.
“Because your father made a choice.”
Charlotte felt as though the room tilted.
“What choice?”
Eleanor stepped closer.
“He chose which daughter to save.”
Charlotte stared.
“What?”
Eleanor’s tears fell.
“You were never an only daughter.”
Nobody moved.
Charlotte thought she had misheard.
“My father had another child?”
Eleanor shook her head.
“We did.”
Charlotte felt cold from head to toe.
“A sister?”
“Yes.”
“Where is she?”
Eleanor looked toward the hall.
Before she could answer, headlights swept across the front windows.
Three vehicles.
Fast.
Nathan turned toward the door.
Alexander reached inside his coat.
The elderly man whispered:
“They found us.”
Charlotte looked at Eleanor.
“Who?”
Eleanor grabbed Charlotte’s hands.
Her fingers were shaking violently.
“The people who killed William.”
Outside, car doors slammed.
More than one.
Mara moved toward the curtains.
Nathan pulled Charlotte away from the window.
Then Charlotte’s phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
Taken inside the Solmere Hotel.
Live.
Victoria Sterling sat tied to a chair.
Beside her was a young woman with blonde hair.
Her missing sister.
Behind them stood Caleb Rusk.
But Caleb was not the person holding the gun.
Charlotte zoomed in.
Her blood turned cold.
The woman beside Caleb had red hair.
Charlotte’s red hair.
Her eyes.
Her face.
Almost exactly.
The message beneath the photograph contained only seven words.
May you like
COME HOME, CHARLOTTE.
YOUR SISTER OWNS THE HOTEL NOW.
