Chapter 3 - The Hidden Room
Dad Had Been Preparing for This
The safe house was a small apartment above an abandoned dentist's office.
It didn't look safe.
That was probably why it was.
Rowan locked three deadbolts, checked every window, and covered the peephole with tape.
Ivy sat on the couch with a blanket around her shoulders.
I kept staring at the photograph.
“She is the key.”
“Why me?” I asked.
Rowan didn't answer.
“Why me?”
He sat across from me.
“Your father believed someone in the family was being used without realizing it.”
“Used for what?”
“We don't know.”
“You have been investigating this for months and don't know?”
“We've been investigating the money.”
“Then you're missing the person behind it.”
Rowan looked at me.
“Yes.”
My skin prickled.
“Who?”
“We think the network is controlled by someone with access to private family records.”
“Why family records?”
“Because whoever is doing this doesn't just move money. They build identities.”
Ivy lifted her head.
“What does that mean?”
Rowan's expression softened.
“It means they know how to make one person look like another person on paper.”
I thought of my mother's locked laptop.
Her secret phone calls.
The envelopes she sometimes brought home.
Then I remembered something else.
“Dad had a study.”
Rowan nodded.
“Private room?”
“Yes.”
“Did he keep important documents there?”
“Usually.”
“Anything hidden?”
“I don't know.”
“Think.”
I closed my eyes.
A memory surfaced.
Three weeks earlier, I had walked past Dad's study late at night.
The door was open.
He had been standing in front of the library wall.
One hand resting on the books.
He'd noticed me.
He smiled.
“You're up late.”
“I couldn't sleep.”
He closed one book.
“Sometimes the safest place to hide something is where everybody thinks they already know what's there.”
At the time, I thought he'd been talking about a book.
Now I knew better.
“We need to go back,” I said.
Rowan stood.
“No.”
“Dad left something there.”
“Your mother is probably watching the house.”
“She'll think we're hiding.”
“She already knows you're alive.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“She called me twenty minutes ago.”
My chest tightened.
“What did she say?”
“She asked whether you were with me.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That I hadn't found you.”
I stared.
“You lied to my mother.”
“Yes.”
“And she believed you?”
Rowan paused.
“No.”
The next morning we returned to the house with two agents.
From the outside, it looked untouched.
No broken windows.
No police tape.
No sign of what had happened.
Ivy refused to enter.
I understood.
I entered the study with Rowan.
Everything looked normal.
Desk.
Lamp.
Books.
Family photographs.
Then I saw it.
One shelf was slightly crooked.
I pulled it.
Nothing.
Rowan pushed the books aside.
Behind them was a narrow gap.
Inside sat a small metal box.
My heart pounded.
The box opened with a key.
There was no key.
Then I remembered Dad's habit of hiding spare keys inside clocks.
I crossed the room.
The antique clock on the mantel had a false panel.
Inside was a tiny brass key.
Rowan stared at me.
“How did you know?”
“Dad taught me.”
The box opened.
Inside were three things.
A USB drive.
A photograph.
And a handwritten note.
The photograph was of Mom.
Not from one of her charity events.
Not with us.
It showed her standing in a parking garage beside a man I'd never seen.
The man had his back to the camera.
But the car behind them was unmistakable.
My mother's black sedan.
The handwritten note contained only one sentence.
“If you're reading this, I've already failed to stop her.”
My hands shook.
Rowan picked up the USB.
“Don't plug that into anything here.”
“Why?”
“Because we don't know whether it's trapped.”
He looked toward the hallway.
A floorboard creaked.
We both froze.
Then another.
Rowan reached for his weapon.
Footsteps approached.
Slowly.
One.
Two.
Three.
A shadow moved under the study door.
Then the doorknob turned.
Rowan whispered, “Behind me.”
The door opened.
Ivy stood there.
Her face was white.
“Lyra.”
“What?”
She pointed toward the staircase.
“Mom is downstairs.”
Rowan's eyes narrowed.
“That's impossible.”
Ivy shook her head.
“I saw her.”
Then my phone buzzed.
May you like
A message from Mom.
“You're looking in the wrong room.”
