Chapter 2 - The Woman Behind the WallThe second shot never came.
Leo remained over Clare for three seconds, listening to the rain hammer the windows and his own breathing.
Then he moved.
He grabbed Clare by the wrist and dragged her behind the marble fireplace.
“Stay down.”
“But the—”
“Down.”
She obeyed.
Leo crossed the room in a crouch.
The hidden recorder still blinked inside the bookshelf.
He pulled it free.
A tiny red light stared back at him.
Someone had installed it recently.
Leo examined the wire.
Professional.
Very professional.
He followed it behind the shelves.
The cable disappeared into a narrow gap between the stone wall and the wood paneling.
Leo pressed his palm against the panel.
It moved.
A secret passage.
His mother used to tell him the old Rossi estate had more doors than walls.
As a child, he thought it was a joke.
Tonight, he discovered she had been serious.
“Clare.”
She raised her head.
“Come here.”
She crawled toward him.
Leo pulled the panel open.
Behind it was a narrow passage leading into darkness.
Clare stared.
“There was a room behind the library?”
“There is now.”
They entered.
The air smelled of dust and old paper.
At the end of the passage stood a steel door.
Leo tried the handle.
Locked.
He pulled a handgun from his waistband and aimed at the mechanism.
Clare grabbed his arm.
“Wait.”
“What?”
She pointed.
A brass keyhole sat beneath the handle.
And around it was a strange engraving.
A little sparrow.
Leo stared at it.
His mother had worn a gold pendant shaped like a sparrow.
He remembered it because she used to tap it whenever she was worried.
He had not seen that pendant since the night she disappeared.
Leo reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
“Call nobody.”
Clare frowned.
“Why?”
“Because I don't know who is loyal.”
That sentence frightened her more than the gun.
Leo called one man.
“Enzo.”
A rough voice answered.
“Boss?”
“Lock down the estate.”
“What's happened?”
“Someone fired into my library.”
Silence.
Then Enzo swore.
“Anyone hit?”
“No.”
Leo looked at Clare.
“Not yet.”
He ended the call.
Then he searched the door.
A thin piece of folded paper had been pushed beneath it.
He picked it up.
Three words were written in faded ink.
SHE IS WAITING.
Clare's face went white.
Leo turned toward her.
“Waiting where?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
The steel door suddenly unlocked from the other side.
Both froze.
The handle slowly turned.
Leo raised his gun.
The door opened.
No one stood there.
Only darkness.
And inside the room, resting on a wooden chair, was an old photograph.
Leo approached carefully.
He lifted it.
The photograph showed his mother.
Alive.
Older.
And standing beside a young Clare.
Leo looked at Clare.
She stared at the photograph, horrified.
“I've never seen that.”
“You're in it.”
“I know.”
“No. Look at the date.”
Clare did.
Written on the back:
Boston, St. Jude's Hospice. Four years ago.
Clare's voice cracked.
“That isn't possible.”
Leo looked at the photograph again.
His mother was smiling.
Behind her stood a man Leo recognized immediately.
His father.
Dead for eight years.
Leo whispered one sentence.
May you like
“My father was there too.”
And somewhere deep inside the estate, something heavy slammed shut.
