Chapter 4 - The Fourth Photograph
Maren needed to reach the staircase before Reed removed the photograph.
She pressed the call button beside her bed.
No one answered.
She pressed it again.
The wire had been disconnected.
Of course.
She rolled toward the bedroom door and tried the handle.
Locked from the outside.
Reed had trapped her.
Maren looked toward the balcony.
Her bedroom was on the second floor. The balcony overlooked the mansion’s central courtyard, where ivy climbed pale stone walls and a dry fountain stood beneath an old magnolia tree.
The adjoining room belonged to Reed.
Its balcony was separated from hers by less than four feet.
Four feet of open air.
She rolled toward the glass doors.
The lock was stiff, but it opened.
Cold wind rushed into the room, carrying the metallic smell of approaching rain.
Maren maneuvered the chair onto the balcony.
Below, two security guards crossed the courtyard toward the west wing.
She could not outrun them.
She could not warn Lila openly.
But she could create a diversion.
Maren reached into the planter beside the railing and removed a smooth stone. She threw it toward the glass roof of the conservatory.
The stone struck with a sharp crack.
Both guards stopped.
One pointed toward the courtyard.
They changed direction.
It bought Lila perhaps thirty seconds.
Maren turned toward Reed’s balcony.
The gap looked wider from the chair.
She could not jump.
But the decorative iron railing continued around both balconies, interrupted only by the open space between them.
She locked the wheelchair brakes and gripped the railing.
Her legs tingled painfully.
For weeks, she had practiced in secret after midnight, lifting her weight from the chair for seconds at a time.
Reed believed she could not stand.
Maren intended to preserve that belief.
She pulled herself upright.
Her knees shook.
Pain shot through her hips.
The courtyard tilted beneath her.
She kept one hand on the railing and stepped onto the narrow stone ledge beside the wheelchair.
One movement.
Then another.
The wind pressed the satin dress against her legs.
She reached across the gap and caught Reed’s railing.
For one terrifying second, her right foot slipped.
Her body swung toward the courtyard.
She bit back a scream.
Her fingers tightened until the metal cut into her palms.
Then she dragged herself across and collapsed onto Reed’s balcony.
The glass door was unlocked.
Inside, his bedroom was immaculate.
No photographs.
No books.
No personal objects except a black leather watch box and a silver-framed wedding portrait of Maren smiling beside him.
She turned the frame face down.
Then she saw the open laptop on his desk.
The screen displayed the mansion’s internal security system.
Several camera feeds were active.
West corridor.
Kitchen.
Front gate.
Dining room.
The feed from Maren’s bedroom was black.
Reed had disabled it before locking her inside.
Maren rolled Reed’s desk chair toward the laptop and searched the cameras.
Lila appeared briefly on the west corridor feed.
She was carrying a small gray bag.
A security guard entered the hallway behind her.
Lila disappeared around a corner.
The guard followed.
Maren searched for the chapel camera.
There was none.
She opened the security map.
The old chapel appeared as an unmonitored space between the west wing and the underground service tunnels.
A service tunnel.
That was how the unknown woman intended to enter the property.
Maren looked at the front-gate camera.
A black vehicle waited half a mile down the road.
She could just make out silhouettes inside.
They were already close.
But the signal had to be sent at dinner.
Why?
Why wait until Maren was actively dying?
Evidence, she realized.
The woman needed Reed and Celeste to reveal themselves.
Saving Maren was not enough.
She wanted them recorded committing the crime.
Maren returned to the security map and unlocked her bedroom remotely.
Then she noticed another user logged into the system.
ADMINISTRATOR E. VALE.
The account had accessed the mansion six minutes earlier.
Evelyn Vale.
Maren stared at the name.
Before she could investigate, footsteps approached Reed’s door.
She lowered herself behind the desk.
The handle turned.
Celeste entered.
Dr. Emery Kline followed.
Maren held her breath.
From her hiding place, she could see Celeste’s cream robe and Kline’s polished brown shoes.
“Reed is losing control,” Kline said.
“He never had control.”
“He told her about the guardianship.”
“No. She discovered it.”
“Then she may have discovered the rest.”
Celeste walked toward the laptop.
Maren pulled her dress closer to prevent the satin from showing beneath the desk.
“The maid is missing,” Celeste said.
“Kline answered, “She’s a frightened girl, not a spy.”
“She took something from the furnace room.”
“You said everything was destroyed.”
“Everything important was.”
“What about the hospital bracelet?”
Celeste did not answer.
Kline lowered his voice.
“If Evelyn is alive, we need to leave.”
“You have been saying that for twenty years.”
“And for twenty years, you have ignored me.”
“Because Evelyn cannot move against us without exposing herself.”
“She may not care anymore.”
Celeste closed the laptop.
Maren heard the click.
Then Celeste said, “Maren asked Reed about the fire.”
Kline exhaled.
“How?”
“The recording behind Edmund’s portrait.”
“You told me that wall was empty.”
“It should have been.”
“Who accessed it?”
“No one. The alarm never triggered.”
“Then Edmund left another path.”
Celeste walked away from the desk.
“The fourth photograph,” she said.
“What about it?”
“The glass was moved.”
Maren’s pulse quickened.
Kline asked, “Did she see the original?”
“No. But she may have seen enough.”
“Then remove it.”
“I already did.”
Maren felt a surge of disappointment.
Celeste had reached it first.
Then the bedroom door opened again.
Reed entered.
“The attorneys are gone,” he said.
Celeste replied, “They were never coming.”
“You told me they would witness the signing.”
“They were a distraction.”
“A distraction from what?”
“From the board.”
Reed’s voice sharpened.
“What did you do?”
Celeste laughed softly.
“What you were too sentimental to do. At six this evening, the Vale Meridian directors will receive proof that Maren is medically incompetent.”
“She hasn’t signed the transfer.”
“She doesn’t need to. Once the board accepts the guardianship petition, you become acting proxy.”
“And if she survives?”
“She won’t.”
Kline said, “This is moving too fast.”
Celeste’s voice hardened.
“Evelyn is moving toward the property. We end this tonight.”
Reed was silent.
Then he asked, “How do you know she’s coming?”
“Because the photograph was moved.”
Maren heard something placed on the desk.
A frame.
“The photograph was never evidence,” Celeste continued. “It was a message.”
“To whom?”
“To Evelyn.”
Maren risked lifting her head.
Through the gap beside the desk, she saw the back of a large silver frame.
Celeste turned it around.
The fourth photograph.
It showed Maren’s father, Edmund Vale, standing on the mansion staircase thirty-one years earlier.
Beside him stood a younger Celeste.
Behind them, half-hidden in shadow, was a man wearing a dark uniform.
His face had been scratched from the picture.
At the bottom of the frame, someone had written four words in faded ink.
SHE KNOWS WHICH CHILD LIVED.
Reed stared at it.
“What does that mean?”
Celeste answered quietly.
“It means Maren was never the only baby taken from that hospital.”
A phone rang downstairs.
All three of them went still.
May you like
Then a security guard shouted from the corridor.
“Mrs. Halston, we found the maid.”
