Chapter 2 - Someone Was ListeningEthan crossed the bedroom in four long strides.
Mara stepped aside.
He opened the door.
The corridor beyond was empty.
The nearest lamp cast a warm circle of light across the polished oak floor. Family portraits lined the walls, their gilt frames gleaming beneath the chandeliers.
At the far end, a narrow service passage disappeared toward the back staircase.
Ethan listened.
Nothing.
"Who was here?" he asked.
Mara shook her head.
"I didn't see anyone."
"You said someone questioned Lily."
"She told me herself."
"When?"
"After dinner. While I was helping her brush her teeth."
Ethan looked down the empty corridor again.
"Exactly what did she say?"
Mara's voice weakened.
"She said a man asked whether she'd told Daddy about the summer night."
Ethan felt the words settle like stones in his chest.
"The summer night?"
Mara nodded.
"That's how she describes the night Mrs. Vale died."
"Did she say which man?"
"No."
"Did you ask?"
"Yes."
"And?"
Mara lowered her eyes.
"She started crying."
He wanted to demand more.
He wanted to march through every room of the house, drag every employee into the library, and refuse to let anyone leave until someone confessed.
But Lily's face flashed before him.
They'll take June away too.
His anger would only make the children more frightened.
"Where are my daughters?"
"In their bedroom. June's asleep."
"And Lily?"
"She was awake when I left."
Ethan pulled out his phone and called the house's security manager.
Victor Shaw answered almost immediately.
"Mr. Vale?"
"Where are you?"
"In the downstairs security office."
"Stay there. I need to speak to you."
"Is something wrong?"
"That's what I'm going to find out."
Ethan ended the call.
Mara's breathing changed.
He noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Mara."
She looked directly at him for the first time.
"Victor controls the house cameras."
"I know."
"And the alarm system."
"Yes."
"And all the electronic bedroom locks."
Ethan stared at her.
"Are you trying to tell me something?"
For a moment, she seemed close to answering.
Then footsteps approached from the opposite hallway.
Adrian appeared beneath the archway.
He wore a charcoal sweater, dark trousers, and the pleasant expression of a man walking into an ordinary family conversation.
"There you are," he said. "I've been looking everywhere."
Ethan turned.
"For what?"
"For you."
Adrian smiled at Mara.
"Everything all right?"
"Yes, sir," she answered quickly.
"Good. The girls shouldn't be kept awake with grown-up worries."
Ethan watched his brother closely.
"Who told you they were awake?"
Adrian's smile remained in place.
"Mara just said so, didn't she?"
"No. She didn't."
The silence stretched.
Then Adrian lifted one shoulder.
"Well, it's a reasonable assumption."
Ethan stepped toward him.
"What were you doing upstairs?"
"I live here."
"That's not what I asked."
Something cold moved behind Adrian's eyes.
"You've had a difficult day."
"Answer me."
"I was checking the guest-room thermostat. Are we finished?"
Ethan wanted to grab him.
Instead, he folded his arms.
"We're finished when I say we're finished."
Adrian's expression hardened for a fraction of a second.
Then he smiled again.
"Good night, brother."
He walked away.
Only when his footsteps faded did Mara release a shaky breath.
Twenty minutes later, Ethan stood inside the security office.
A bank of monitors displayed the estate's entrances, garages, courtyard, garden paths, and interior public corridors.
Victor Shaw sat behind a wide desk.
He was a tall, heavy-shouldered man in his late forties, with closely cropped graying hair and a habit of keeping both hands flat on the table when he spoke.
He had worked for the Whitcomb family for almost eleven years.
Claire had trusted him.
Ethan had trusted him.
"Any unusual activity tonight?" Ethan asked.
Victor shook his head.
"Nothing reported."
"Anyone near the children's bedrooms?"
"Staff going about their duties."
"Can you show me?"
Victor turned toward the monitors.
"Of course."
He opened the archived footage for the upstairs corridor.
Ethan watched Mara emerge from Lily's bedroom carrying folded towels.
A housekeeper walked past several minutes later.
Then the screen froze.
A loading symbol appeared.
Victor clicked his mouse.
"That's odd."
"What?"
"Archive interruption."
"For how long?"
"About four minutes."
Ethan looked at the timestamp.
Seven eleven to seven fifteen.
The approximate time Mara had heard Lily crying.
"Why?"
"Network problem, perhaps."
"Perhaps?"
"We'll have to inspect it."
Ethan leaned forward.
"Does this happen often?"
Victor didn't look at him.
"Occasionally."
"Did it happen the night Claire died?"
Victor's hand stopped moving.
The question had escaped before Ethan could stop it.
For the first time, the security manager looked startled.
Then his face became unreadable.
"That recording was already reviewed during the investigation."
"That's not what I asked."
"The rear stairwell camera wasn't functioning correctly that evening."
Ethan stared at him.
"No one told me that."
"It was in the incident documentation."
"Show me."
Victor hesitated.
"Those files are archived."
"Then retrieve them."
"Mr. Vale, it's almost eight."
Ethan placed both hands on the desk.
"My wife is dead. My daughter is terrified. I don't care what time it is."
Victor held his gaze.
Then slowly nodded.
"I'll prepare everything for tomorrow."
Ethan straightened.
"No. Don't touch anything until someone independent examines it."
The security manager's jaw tightened.
"Are you questioning my integrity?"
"I'm asking for the recordings."
Ethan walked out before Victor could answer.
He didn't notice the red indicator on the security console blink twice as the office door closed.
Upstairs, Lily was awake.
She sat in bed holding a faded yellow stuffed rabbit.
Claire had bought it for her at a roadside fair when Lily was two.
One ear hung crookedly from years of being carried everywhere.
Ethan sat beside her.
"Can we talk about something?"
Lily pulled the rabbit closer.
"Am I in trouble?"
"No."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
He brushed a curl away from her forehead.
"Someone asked you a question tonight."
Her face went pale.
"Who told you?"
"Mara said you were upset."
Lily stared toward her bedroom door.
"Did he hear?"
"Did who hear?"
She said nothing.
Ethan knew he was approaching the edge of something dangerous.
He remembered the child counselor's advice after Claire's death: don't lead, don't suggest answers, don't make the child feel responsible.
So he changed course.
"You don't need to tell me anything else tonight. I just need to know whether you feel safe here."
Lily shook her head.
"Not when the lights go out."
"Why?"
"Because that's when the doors make sounds."
"What sounds?"
She tapped her fingernail against the wooden bedframe.
Three slow taps.
A pause.
Two more.
Ethan listened.
"Where did you hear that?"
Lily raised one finger toward the ceiling.
"The hallway."
"Recently?"
"Every night."
He looked up.
The old house creaked constantly.
Pipes knocked.
Heating ducts expanded.
Wood shifted with changes in temperature.
But Lily didn't seem to be describing ordinary noises.
He kissed her forehead.
"From now on, I'm sleeping right next door. And nobody comes into this room unless you want them here."
She looked at him desperately.
"What about June?"
"June too."
Lily leaned forward and hugged him.
"Don't let them put her in the white room."
Ethan froze.
"What white room?"
"The one with no toys."
He drew back slightly.
"Have you seen it?"
Lily shook her head.
"He showed me a picture."
"Who did?"
Her mouth opened.
Then closed.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
"Please, Daddy. I can't."
Ethan held her until her breathing steadied.
Then he walked into the adjoining nursery.
June was sleeping on her side, one hand tucked beneath her cheek.
He checked the windows.
The bathroom.
The closet.
Finally, he inspected the electronic latch on the bedroom door.
A small green light glowed above the handle.
He remembered Mara's warning.
Victor controls the locks.
Ethan placed a chair beside June's bed and sat down.
He would stay there until morning.
At 2:13 a.m., the green light turned red.
May you like
A soft mechanical click came from the door.
Then someone tried the handle.
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