Chapter 3 - The Second Entrance
Andrew went straight to the locked door.
Renee followed.
“Don’t.”
He grabbed the handle.
It didn’t turn.
“You still want me to leave it alone?”
“Yes.”
“Someone just called my house and asked for a woman I apparently married without knowing her name.”
“Breaking a door won’t explain that.”
“It might explain who Sophie heard.”
Andrew went to the garage for tools.
When he returned, Renee stood in front of the door.
“Move.”
“No.”
He looked at her in disbelief.
“Are you protecting whoever is in there?”
“I’m protecting Sophie.”
“From what?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“That sentence makes no sense.”
“It will.”
“Then make it make sense.”
Renee’s eyes filled.
“I received a letter two months ago.”
Andrew stopped.
“What letter?”
“It came to my office.”
“From?”
“No return address.”
“What did it say?”
She looked toward the locked room.
“‘If you want to know what happened to Peter, buy Hawthorne Ridge before the Bennetts do.’”
Andrew lowered the crowbar.
“The Bennetts?”
“It specifically said your family.”
“You bought this house because of an anonymous letter?”
“We bought this house because I convinced you.”
He almost smiled at the brutal honesty.
Almost.
“What else?”
“It said there was evidence here.”
“Evidence of what?”
“My father’s case.”
Andrew stared at her.
“And you thought perhaps mentioning that to your husband—the son of the man you believed framed your father—would complicate the mortgage paperwork?”
“I didn’t know whether it was real.”
“You still don’t.”
“I know.”
He looked at the door.
“Who had access before us?”
“The trust. Contractors. Realtor.”
“Who sent the letter?”
“I don’t know.”
A noise came from the garage.
Both turned.
Not from behind the door.
From the wall beside it.
A soft metallic click.
Andrew walked back through the kitchen into the attached garage.
The rear wall contained built-in cabinetry left by the previous owner.
One tall panel stood slightly open.
Andrew pulled it.
Behind it was a narrow passage.
Renee whispered, “Oh my God.”
They entered cautiously.
The passage ran inside the wall for twelve feet and ended at another door.
Andrew understood immediately.
“The locked room has two entrances.”
The interior door opened easily.
Renee caught his arm.
“Andrew.”
He pulled away.
Inside was a small windowless study.
Empty.
A folding cot.
A half-finished bottle of water.
A battery lantern.
Food wrappers.
Someone had been there recently.
But no man.
Andrew crossed to the hallway door and confirmed it was bolted from inside.
“That’s how.”
Renee stood motionless.
On the desk lay a manila envelope.
Her name was written across it.
Not Renee.
MARA.
Andrew opened it.
Inside were photocopies of financial ledgers dated twenty-two years earlier.
Company names.
Wire transfers.
Initials.
At the bottom of one page were two signatures.
Peter Keene.
Charles Bennett.
Renee whispered, “Those aren’t the documents from the trial.”
Andrew turned another page.
A property transfer.
Hawthorne Ridge.
Original owner: Keene Holdings Family Trust.
Recipient: Bennett Development Holdings.
Transfer price: $1.
Renee stared.
“My family owned this house.”
Andrew looked at her.
She shook her head.
“I didn’t know.”
A faint sound came from the passage.
Andrew moved quickly.
Someone slammed the garage panel.
By the time he reached it and pulled it open, the garage was empty.
But the exterior side door was swinging shut.
He ran outside.
A dark sedan disappeared around the bend.
Andrew returned.
Renee had found something beneath the cot.
An old digital recorder.
There was one audio file.
She pressed play.
A man’s voice crackled through the speaker.
“If you’re hearing this, Mara, I couldn’t stay.”
Renee gripped the device.
“My name is Gabriel Shaw. I worked security for Charles Bennett for seventeen years.”
Andrew felt his stomach tighten.
The recording continued.
“Your father was not innocent.”
Renee’s face collapsed.
May you like
Then Gabriel added:
“But neither was Charles.”
