Chapter 8 - Room 317The Continental was closed to the public by midnight.
Callum walked through the lobby as though the building belonged to him.
In truth, half the hotel did.
Sadie followed.
Neither spoke.
They reached the third floor.
Room 317 stood at the end of the corridor.
Callum inserted the key.
The door opened.
Nothing unusual.
A bed.
Desk.
Lamp.
A painting above the fireplace.
Callum stopped.
“Do you know this room?”
Sadie asked.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I stayed here with Emma.”
Sadie looked at him.
“When?”
“Three weeks before she died.”
The room felt colder.
Callum crossed to the painting.
He touched the frame.
“Here.”
Behind it was a compartment.
Inside:
A notebook.
A cassette tape.
An old photograph.
Sadie picked up the photograph.
Emma.
Callum.
And another man.
She stared.
“Who is that?”
Callum went pale.
“I don't know.”
“You are lying.”
“No.”
He looked closer.
Then something changed in his expression.
“I know him.”
“Who?”
“Your father.”
Sadie stared at the photograph.
The man standing behind Emma was not an older version of Michael Miller.
It was Michael.
But younger.
Much younger.
And beside him was a fourth person.
The photograph had been folded.
Callum opened it.
A date had been written on the back.
1989.
Sadie frowned.
“My father was twenty-one.”
“Maybe younger.”
“Why would he be meeting you?”
“I wasn't born yet.”
She looked at him.
“Then who took this?”
Callum turned the photograph over again.
A name was written underneath.
Aurelia.
Sadie whispered:
“Who is Aurelia?”
Callum looked toward the window.
“No idea.”
The cassette recorder clicked.
They both froze.
It had started by itself.
Emma’s voice filled the room.
“If this recording is playing, then I failed.”
Sadie closed her eyes.
“Emma.”
Her sister continued.
“Callum, if you are hearing this, do not trust Hale.”
Callum swallowed.
“Obvious advice.”
The tape continued.
“But that isn't the truth you need.”
A pause.
Then:
“The man you call Vincent Hale isn't the man behind the ledger.”
Callum looked at Sadie.
Emma continued.
“The ledger was created by someone called Aurelia.”
Sadie whispered the name again.
Emma's voice trembled.
“Aurelia has been running the organization since before our parents were born.”
Sadie stepped closer to the recorder.
“Who is she?”
The tape answered.
“She is a woman.”
Static.
“Your mother knows her.”
Sadie stared.
The recording continued.
“And she has been hiding in plain sight.”
The tape cut.
Silence.
Callum stared at the recorder.
Then Sadie noticed something.
A shadow beneath the door.
Someone was standing outside.
Callum raised his gun.
The shadow vanished.
He opened the door.
The corridor was empty.
Then his phone buzzed.
A message.
LOOK OUT THE WINDOW.
Sadie looked.
Across the street, inside another building, someone stood behind a window.
A woman.
Older.
Silver hair.
Watching them.
Sadie whispered:
“Is that…”
Callum stared.
His face changed.
“No.”
“Who is she?”
He lowered the gun.
“My mother.”
Sadie stared at him.
“You said she was dead.”
“She is.”
The woman across the street smiled.
Then she lifted a hand.
May you like
And mouthed four words.
YOU LOOK JUST LIKE ME.
