Chapter 2 - The Locked Room“Nora!”
I tore through the house.
The emergency lights flickered red.
I found Nora underneath the kitchen table.
She was shaking.
I dropped to my knees.
“Where are your sisters?”
She pointed toward the pantry.
I turned.
The pantry door was open.
Inside, the shelves were empty.
No Olivia.
No Sophie.
I felt something cold crawl up my spine.
Then Grace appeared behind me.
She was holding Sophie.
Olivia stood beside her.
All three girls were safe.
I exhaled.
Grace's expression was strange.
“You disappeared,” I said.
“I heard the alarm.”
“You disappeared.”
She looked at me.
“I was checking the girls.”
“Then why didn't I see you?”
She didn't answer.
I hated unanswered questions.
Especially inside my house.
I locked every exterior entrance.
Then I called my security chief, Marcus Reed.
He arrived six minutes later.
Marcus had been with me for nine years.
He had protected Isabelle.
He had protected my daughters.
He had taken bullets meant for me.
I trusted him more than I trusted most of my family.
That night, however, when I showed him the hidden camera, he stared at it for too long.
“Where did you find this?”
“Behind Isabelle's photograph.”
He swallowed.
“Impossible.”
“Why?”
“The wall was inspected after the murder.”
“By who?”
“Me.”
Silence.
I stared at him.
“You inspected this room?”
“Yes.”
“And found nothing?”
“No.”
He looked at the camera again.
“Someone installed this afterward.”
“How long?”
He examined the device.
“At least six months.”
Six months.
Someone had been watching my daughters for half a year.
I turned to Grace.
“Did you know about this?”
“No.”
She answered too quickly.
I stepped toward her.
“You're lying.”
Her jaw tightened.
“No.”
“Everyone lies when they're afraid.”
“I'm not afraid of you.”
That stopped me.
Most people were.
Grace wasn't.
She looked directly into my eyes.
“I am afraid of what happened to your wife.”
Marcus shifted behind me.
“What does that mean?”
Grace looked at him.
For one strange moment, recognition flashed across her face.
Marcus noticed it.
So did I.
“Have you met Marcus before?”
“No.”
“You looked like you recognized him.”
“I didn't.”
Marcus interrupted.
“We need to sweep the house.”
I nodded.
Three hours later, we found six more cameras.
Bedroom hallway.
Playroom.
Kitchen.
Study.
Basement.
And one inside my daughters' bathroom.
That one made something inside me snap.
Whoever had done this hadn't just been spying.
They had access.
They knew our movements.
They knew when I left.
When Isabelle went to work.
When the girls slept.
It meant the killer wasn't operating from outside.
He had been inside.
That night I reviewed security footage from the last fourteen months.
At 3:17 a.m., one clip caught my attention.
A man entering the mansion.
The footage showed him only from behind.
Black coat.
Black gloves.
He walked directly toward the girls' bedrooms.
I froze the frame.
“Marcus.”
He stepped closer.
Then stopped.
“That's impossible.”
“What?”
“That hallway has no camera.”
I turned.
“What?”
Marcus pointed at the screen.
“This camera was added after the murder.”
“When?”
He checked.
“Three weeks ago.”
“But the footage is from six months ago.”
Neither of us spoke.
My computer was showing footage that didn't exist.
Someone had planted video files inside my system.
Then the screen flickered.
A message appeared.
YOU NEVER ASKED THE RIGHT QUESTION.
I stared at it.
Another line appeared.
WHY DID ISABELLE DIE?
I felt my pulse pounding.
Then a third line appeared.
ASK GRACE.
I turned toward the doorway.
Grace stood there.
Her face was expressionless.
But she was holding something.
A tiny silver key.
“Where did you get that?”
She looked at me.
“From Nora.”
“Why would Nora have a key?”
Grace hesitated.
Then she placed it in my palm.
“She said her mother gave it to her.”
My fingers closed around the metal.
Isabelle was dead.
And suddenly I realized something.
Maybe the murder outside that preschool hadn't been the beginning.
May you like
Maybe it had been the middle.
And maybe my wife had known exactly who was coming for her.
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