Chapter 4 - THE ROOM ACROSS THE HALL
Ethan read Malcolm’s message three times.
DON’T LET NOAH SLEEP IN HIS ROOM TONIGHT.
No explanation.
No location.
No answer when Ethan called.
He tried again.
Straight to voicemail.
Marcus traced the phone.
Last signal inside Ashford Manor.
Then nothing.
“He may still be here,” Marcus said.
“Or he dumped the phone.”
“Yes.”
Ethan looked toward the bloody stairwell.
“Do you think that’s his blood?”
“Button suggests his jacket was here.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“No.”
Marcus looked toward the trail.
“I don’t trust anything we find anymore.”
Neither did Ethan.
They moved Noah out of his bedroom anyway.
No argument.
No delay.
Ethan carried him to the private guest suite across from his own room.
Noah was exhausted.
The adrenaline had disappeared.
His eyes kept closing.
“Why can’t I sleep in my bed?”
“Because I want you close to me tonight.”
“You’re across the hall anyway.”
“Closer.”
Noah accepted that.
Children sometimes understood fear better than adults.
He climbed beneath the blankets.
Elena stood near the door.
She had finally received four stitches.
A clean bandage wrapped her arm.
Ethan noticed.
“You should go home.”
She looked at him.
“Is that what you want?”
He almost said yes.
Not because he wanted her gone.
Because anybody near his family had become a target.
But Noah answered before him.
“No.”
Elena smiled.
Ethan looked at his son.
“You’re outvoted.”
“I own the house.”
Noah yawned.
“You always say voting matters.”
Elena covered a laugh.
Ethan surrendered.
“Fine.”
Noah closed his eyes.
Then opened them again.
“Elena?”
“Yes?”
“Can you stay until I sleep?”
“Of course.”
Ethan watched her sit beside the bed.
She began telling Noah a quiet story about a dog that stole sandwiches from a bakery.
Within five minutes, his breathing became slow.
Ethan remained in the doorway.
Elena pulled the blanket higher.
Then followed him into the hall.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Tonight.”
She shrugged.
“I did what anyone would.”
“No.”
He looked toward the closed bedroom door.
“Most people froze.”
“You didn’t.”
“I was farther away.”
“That’s not an excuse.”
Elena studied him.
“You really blame yourself for everything.”
“Occupational hazard.”
“Being rich?”
“Being responsible.”
There was no arrogance in the answer.
Only fatigue.
Elena leaned against the wall.
“Why did you yell at me?”
Ethan knew exactly what she meant.
His first words after the collapse.
GET OFF MY SON.
He looked down.
“I saw him on the floor.”
“I saw blood.”
“I saw you over him.”
“My brain stopped.”
“I thought…”
“You thought I hurt him.”
“Yes.”
Elena nodded.
That answer still hurt.
But his honesty mattered.
“I’m sorry.”
She looked at him.
“I should have asked what happened.”
“I should have looked.”
“I’m sorry.”
Elena accepted it with a small nod.
Then Marcus approached.
“We found something in Noah’s room.”
Ethan’s body tightened.
“What?”
“Better if you see it.”
Noah’s bedroom looked untouched.
Toy cars on the rug.
Books.
A stuffed lion.
Small sneakers near the closet.
Marcus walked toward the window.
“Maintenance checked everything after Malcolm’s message.”
He pulled back the curtain.
A tiny black device had been attached beneath the wooden sill.
Ethan stared.
“What is that?”
“Microphone.”
Elena’s stomach dropped.
“How long?”
“Battery model suggests weeks.”
Ethan looked around his son’s room.
Someone had been listening.
To bedtime stories.
To conversations.
To his child.
Marcus showed him two more devices.
One behind the bookshelf.
One inside the smoke detector.
Ethan’s face became unreadable.
Then dangerous.
“Search the entire house.”
“Already started.”
“Every room.”
“Yes.”
“Mine.”
“Yes.”
“Staff quarters.”
Marcus hesitated.
“All of them?”
“Every inch.”
Elena understood.
“You think someone installed them while pretending to work here.”
“Or while actually working here.”
The statement hung between them.
Elena was staff too.
Ethan immediately regretted how it sounded.
She did not react.
Maybe because she understood the situation.
Maybe because she was too tired.
The search took two hours.
Nine listening devices were found.
Three in Noah’s rooms.
Two in Ethan’s study.
One in the library.
One under the family dining table.
One in Margaret’s sitting room.
And one in Elena’s locker.
She stared at it.
“Why me?”
Marcus examined the device.
“Installed recently.”
“How recently?”
“Adhesive isn’t dusty.”
“A few days.”
Elena felt exposed in a way she could not explain.
Someone had considered her important before tonight.
Why?
She was a housemaid.
She served meals.
Managed linen deliveries.
Helped Noah when the nanny was off.
Nothing more.
Ethan asked the same question.
“Why monitor Elena?”
Marcus looked at her.
“Did anyone contact you recently?”
“No.”
“Threaten you?”
“No.”
“Ask about Ethan?”
“No.”
“Did you recognize Cole before tonight?”
“No.”
“Anything unusual this week?”
Elena thought.
Then remembered.
“Someone went through my locker.”
“When?”
“Two days ago.”
“I thought I had left it messy.”
“What was moved?”
“My bag.”
“My wallet.”
“Anything missing?”
“No.”
Marcus’s eyes narrowed.
“Keys?”
“My apartment key.”
“House staff card.”
“Everything was there.”
“Photographs?”
Elena looked at him.
“What?”
“Any family photographs?”
She hesitated.
“One.”
“Of?”
“My mother and me.”
“Was it moved?”
“Yes.”
Marcus looked toward Ethan.
Someone had not only surveilled Elena.
They had looked into her family.
“Who is your mother?” Ethan asked.
“Elena’s expression changed.
“Why?”
“Because somebody involved in tonight may care.”
She crossed her arms.
“Her name is Isabel Marquez.”
“What does she do?”
“Retired nurse.”
“Where?”
“Queens.”
“Always?”
“No.”
Elena frowned.
“She worked overseas when I was young.”
“Where?”
“Colombia.”
“Panama.”
“A few other places.”
Ethan went still.
His father had major Ashford operations in those countries.
“What years?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“Late nineties.”
“Early 2000s.”
Margaret entered at that moment.
She had heard the final sentence.
“What was your mother’s name?”
Elena turned.
“Isabel Marquez.”
Margaret’s expression changed.
Ethan noticed immediately.
“You know her?”
“No.”
Too fast.
Elena saw it too.
“Mrs. Ashford.”
Margaret looked away.
“I knew someone named Isabel.”
“Last name?”
“Vega.”
Elena’s body went still.
“That was my mother’s maiden name.”
Nobody moved.
Margaret sat down.
“Show me a photograph.”
Elena took out her phone.
She found a recent picture.
Her mother standing beside a window holding a birthday cake.
Margaret stared.
Her hand went to her mouth.
“Oh my God.”
“You know her.”
Margaret nodded.
“How?”
“She worked with Daniel.”
Ethan stepped closer.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“Doing what?”
Margaret looked at Elena.
“She saved his life.”
Elena stared.
“My mother was a nurse.”
“She became one later.”
“What was she before?”
Margaret hesitated.
“Financial investigations.”
“For who?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“That’s not true,” Ethan said.
Margaret looked tired.
“I knew enough to stay away from the details.”
Elena’s voice hardened.
“What did my mother have to do with your husband?”
Margaret looked at her.
“In 1999, Daniel disappeared for eleven days during a business trip to Colombia.”
Ethan’s face changed.
“What?”
“You told me he had appendicitis.”
“I lied.”
“Why?”
“Because when he came back, he begged me never to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“He had been kidnapped.”
Ethan stared.
“By who?”
Margaret shook her head.
“He never told me names.”
“He only said people inside the company had betrayed him.”
Elena felt something cold move through her.
“And my mother?”
“She found him.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“But Daniel trusted her after that.”
“He gave her something.”
“What?”
Margaret looked at Elena’s neck.
A thin silver necklace was visible above her blouse.
A small crescent moon pendant.
Cracked down the middle.
Margaret stood so quickly the chair moved.
“Where did you get that?”
Elena touched it instinctively.
“My mother.”
“When?”
“When I moved here.”
Margaret stepped closer.
“May I see it?”
Elena hesitated.
Then removed the chain.
Margaret held the pendant.
Her fingers trembled.
“This belonged to Daniel.”
“No.”
“My mother gave it to me.”
“It was Daniel’s.”
Ethan stared.
“How do you know?”
“Because I gave it to him.”
Margaret turned the pendant over.
On the back was a tiny engraving Elena had never noticed.
Three stars beneath a lion.
The Ashford crest.
Elena’s pulse quickened.
Margaret whispered.
“He must have given half to Isabel.”
“Half?”
“This moon was originally whole.”
“Daniel broke it in two after Colombia.”
“Why?”
“He said if the other half ever returned, we were in danger again.”
Silence.
Ethan looked at Elena.
Someone had bugged her locker.
Someone had moved the photograph of Isabel.
Someone knew about the pendant.
The attack tonight was not the beginning.
It had started before Elena ever ran toward Noah.
Then a scream echoed from the hallway.
Elena spun.
Noah.
They ran.
The guest-suite door stood open.
The bed was empty.
The window was still locked.
Ethan’s heart stopped.
“Noah!”
No answer.
Marcus checked the bathroom.
Empty.
Closet.
Empty.
Then Elena heard something.
A soft knock.
Not from the room.
From inside the wall.
She moved toward the bookshelf.
Another knock.
“Noah?”
A small voice answered.
“Elena?”
She pressed her ear against the wood.
“I’m here.”
“Where are you?”
“I don’t know.”
Ethan began pulling books from the shelf.
Marcus searched for a latch.
Then Elena noticed the stuffed lion on the floor.
It had been moved.
Behind it, a small carved wooden star protruded from the baseboard.
She pressed it.
The bookshelf shifted.
A narrow passage opened.
Ethan stared.
He had lived in Ashford Manor for most of his life.
He did not know it existed.
Noah stood several feet inside.
Barefoot.
Terrified.
Ethan grabbed him.
“What happened?”
Noah clung to his father.
“A man came in.”
Every adult went still.
“What man?”
“I didn’t see.”
“He woke me up.”
“He said Dad wanted me.”
“And you went with him?”
Noah shook his head.
“I pretended.”
Elena crouched.
“Pretended what?”
“That I was sleepy.”
“Then?”
“He opened the wall.”
“He went first.”
“I hid.”
Ethan looked into the dark passage.
The intruder might still be inside.
Marcus drew his weapon.
“Stay here.”
Noah grabbed Ethan tighter.
Then whispered something against his father’s neck.
“He smelled like Grandpa’s room.”
Ethan frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Noah sniffed.
“Cigars.”
Only three men at the party regularly smoked cigars.
Conrad.
Malcolm.
And Thomas Vale.
Then Noah lifted his head.
“There was something else.”
“What?”
“He called me Danny.”
Ethan’s blood went cold.
Nobody called Noah Danny.
Nobody.
Except Ethan’s father had once planned to name his grandson Daniel.
Only the closest members of the family knew that.
The passage had not been opened by a stranger.
May you like
Someone from Ethan’s inner circle had just entered Noah’s room.
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