Chapter 5 - The Coffin UpstairsMarcus ran through the dark.
Eli's hand was locked inside his.
Behind them came footsteps.
Arthur shouted from somewhere in the hallway.
“Left!”
They turned.
A door slammed shut behind them.
Marcus pushed Eli into an old linen closet.
Arthur entered next.
Clara followed.
Susan came last.
Vincent was gone.
Arthur shut the door.
“Quiet.”
Outside, boots thundered through the hallway.
“Search every room!”
Marcus whispered:
“Who are they?”
Arthur shook his head.
“Not police.”
A flashlight beam passed beneath the door.
Eli covered his mouth.
The beam moved away.
Arthur exhaled.
“We have minutes.”
“Minutes for what?”
“To get to the attic.”
Clara looked at Arthur.
“It's still there?”
Arthur nodded.
“What?”
“The coffin.”
Marcus stared.
“There is a coffin in the attic?”
Arthur didn't answer.
They moved through a hidden passage behind the closet.
It led upward.
The attic smelled of cedar and dust.
At the center sat an old wooden coffin.
Marcus stopped.
His mother had supposedly been cremated after the accident.
He remembered the funeral.
He remembered the coffin.
But he had never seen it opened.
Arthur approached.
“Open it.”
Marcus shook his head.
“Dad…”
“Open it.”
They lifted the lid.
Inside was not a body.
There were files.
Passport photographs.
Bank cards.
A small revolver.
Three identity documents.
And a photograph of a young woman holding a baby.
The woman was Margaret.
The baby was Marcus.
Clara took the photograph.
“Your mother hid these here.”
Marcus picked up one of the passports.
Name:
ELENA WARD.
Photograph:
Margaret.
Another:
MARIA VALE.
Another:
MARA CARSON.
Three identities.
Three escape routes.
Arthur whispered:
“She never planned to disappear forever.”
“What changed?”
Arthur looked at him.
“You did.”
Marcus frowned.
“You were six months old.”
“They found out about you.”
Clara placed another folder in his hands.
Inside were photographs of Marcus as a child.
Walking to school.
Playing in the garden.
Sleeping.
Talking to his mother.
Even bathing.
Someone had been watching.
For years.
Marcus felt sick.
Eli saw one photograph and stepped back.
“That man.”
“What man?”
Eli pointed.
An older photograph showed Marcus's mother standing near a car.
Behind her, barely visible, was Vincent.
Marcus stared.
“How old was this?”
“Ten years before you were born,” Arthur said.
Marcus looked at him.
“You knew Vincent then?”
Arthur nodded.
“He wasn't an enemy yet.”
Clara whispered:
“He was the courier.”
“For what?”
Arthur didn't answer.
Instead he opened another file.
Inside was a list of property owners.
At the top:
CARROW FAMILY.
Below it:
TARGET ASSET: CALDER HOUSE
Then:
PRIMARY OBSTACLE: ARTHUR CARROW
SECONDARY OBSTACLE: MARGARET CARROW
FINAL OBSTACLE: MARCUS CARROW
Marcus stared at the page.
Then he noticed a handwritten annotation.
Eli Carrow must not be allowed access to the wall.
His blood ran cold.
“Why?”
Arthur looked at Eli.
“I don't know.”
Eli whispered:
“Yes, you do.”
Arthur froze.
“You told me never to touch the portrait.”
Arthur nodded.
“Why?”
Arthur's voice became barely audible.
“Because your grandmother told me.”
“Which grandmother?”
Nobody answered.
Then a loud pounding came from below.
“They're in the attic!”
Marcus grabbed Eli.
Arthur shoved the files into a bag.
Clara found a hidden latch in the coffin.
The bottom panel moved.
A narrow tunnel opened beneath it.
They climbed in.
Arthur shut the panel above them.
Darkness swallowed them.
They crawled through the passage.
After several minutes, they reached a small chamber beneath the roof.
A single radio sat on a table.
It was already on.
A voice came through.
“Marcus.”
He recognized it.
Vincent.
“You've found the coffin.”
Marcus looked at Arthur.
Vincent continued.
“You've found the records too.”
Static.
“You think those prove everything.”
Another burst of static.
“They prove nothing.”
Marcus picked up the radio.
“Where is Susan?”
Vincent laughed.
“Still deciding which side she wants to survive on.”
Marcus clenched his jaw.
“Why kill me?”
“Because your father made one mistake.”
“What?”
“He believed Calder House belonged to the Carrow family.”
Marcus looked around.
Vincent spoke again.
“It never did.”
The radio went silent.
Then a final sentence came through.
“Ask Arthur who really built the room behind the portrait.”
Arthur's face went white.
Eli looked at him.
“Grandpa?”
Arthur whispered:
“Not your great-grandfather.”
“Then who?”
Arthur slowly turned toward Marcus.
“Your mother.”
A violent explosion shook the attic.
Dust poured from the ceiling.
May you like
The hidden room collapsed behind them.
And beneath the rubble, something began to ring.
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