Chapter 1 - The Red Light

The red light started blinking at 2:17 in the afternoon.

Three slow flashes.

A pause.

Then three more.

Thomas Delacourt almost threw the little device into the trash.

He had found it buried deep behind the cushions of his late father's old leather sofa while helping his mother clear out the family house.

It was barely bigger than a matchbox.

Red plastic.

Square edges.

A tiny black button on one side.

And two faded initials scratched into the back.

E.S.

Thomas turned it over in his hand.

“Mom?”

Madeleine was standing across the living room with a cardboard box against her hip.

The second she saw the device, the box slipped from her fingers.

China struck hardwood.

Something shattered.

Thomas stared at her.

“Mom?”

Madeleine didn't answer.

Her face had gone completely white.

Thomas slowly raised the object.

“You know what this is.”

“No.”

The answer came too fast.

He knew her too well.

“You're lying.”

“I said no.”

“You've been looking at that thing like you just saw a ghost.”

Madeleine bent down quickly.

“Help me with this.”

“Forget the dishes.”

“Thomas—”

“What is it?”

She reached for a broken plate.

Her hand was shaking.

Thomas crouched and caught her wrist.

“Mom.”

She finally looked at him.

For twelve years, Thomas had learned to recognize silence.

The silence after someone died.

The silence after a betrayal.

And the silence that came when someone was deciding whether a lie was still worth protecting.

This was the third kind.

Thomas held up the device.

“Whose initials are these?”

Madeleine's eyes dropped toward the floor.

“Say it.”

Nothing.

“Mom.”

Her lips finally moved.

“Émilie Serrat.”

The name hit him harder than he expected.

Even after twelve years.

Even after the anger.

Even after the nights he had convinced himself he no longer cared.

Émilie.

The woman he had planned to marry.

The woman who had disappeared overnight.

The woman who had left him one message.

Don't try to find me.

Thomas stood.

“What the hell is her property doing inside Dad's sofa?”

Madeleine sat down slowly.

“I thought it was gone.”

“What was gone?”

“That.”

Thomas looked at the blinking light.

“What does it do?”

Madeleine rubbed her hands together.

“I don't know exactly.”

“You recognized it from across the room.”

“I've seen it before.”

“When?”

She swallowed.

“The night before Émilie disappeared.”

Thomas stopped breathing for a second.

“What?”

Madeleine looked toward the windows.

“Your father had it.”

Thomas laughed once, but there was no humor in it.

“Dad?”

“Yes.”

“My father had Émilie's device the night before she vanished?”

“Yes.”

“And you never told me?”

“Thomas—”

“Twelve years.”

His voice rose.

“You watched me search hospitals. You watched me call her friends. You watched me drive to her apartment every day for two weeks because I thought she might come home.”

“I know.”

“You watched me bury that relationship without ever knowing what happened.”

“I know.”

“And now you're telling me Dad was involved?”

Madeleine closed her eyes.

“He was trying to protect you.”

Thomas stepped back as if she had slapped him.

“From what?”

“I don't know everything.”

“Then tell me what you do know.”

Madeleine stared at the device.

“The night before she disappeared, Émilie came here.”

Thomas went still.

“What time?”

“After midnight.”

“She came to this house?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn't I see her?”

“You were asleep upstairs.”

Thomas's jaw tightened.

Madeleine continued.

“She didn't use the front door. She came through the garden entrance.”

“What happened?”

“Your father took her into his office.”

“And?”

“They argued.”

“About me?”

Madeleine hesitated.

“Partly.”

“What did she say?”

“I couldn't hear everything.”

“But you heard something.”

Madeleine nodded.

“Émilie said, ‘You have to tell him.’”

Thomas felt cold spread through his chest.

“And Dad?”

“He said, ‘Not yet.’”

Madeleine's voice weakened.

“Then he said, ‘If Thomas finds out now, everything will be worse.’”

Thomas stared at her.

“What was I supposed to find out?”

“I don't know.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“I tried to enter the office.”

“What happened?”

“Pierre stopped me.”

Thomas looked toward the hallway leading to his father's old study.

The door was still there.

Dark oak.

Brass handle.

A room nobody had seriously touched since Pierre's death three years earlier.

Madeleine whispered, “Émilie left about an hour later.”

“And the next morning?”

“You got her message.”

Don't try to find me.

Thomas looked again at the red object.

The light flashed.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Madeleine suddenly stood.

Thomas saw fear spread across her face.

Real fear.

“What?”

Madeleine backed away.

“What is it?”

She pointed at the light.

“Pierre told me something.”

“When?”

“The day after Émilie disappeared.”

Thomas stepped toward her.

“What did he say?”

Madeleine's voice fell almost to a whisper.

“He said if that light ever started blinking again…”

She looked directly into her son's eyes.

“…it meant someone had reactivated the system.”

Thomas stared at the blinking diode.

“Who?”

Madeleine's answer barely made a sound.

“Either Émilie…”

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She paused.

“…or the person she was hiding from.”