Chapter 5 - The Man in the BasementJulian Cross arrived at the Moretti estate the next morning with an attorney.
He did not look like a criminal mastermind.
Claire wasn’t sure what she had expected.
Perhaps someone nervous.
Shifty.
Instead, Julian walked through the foyer wearing a camel coat and carrying an expression of profound irritation.
He was thirty-eight, blond, clean-shaven, and handsome in the polished way of a man accustomed to private clubs and expensive mistakes.
Vincent waited in his office.
Claire was not supposed to be there.
Technically.
She had been helping Ethan with a puzzle in the adjoining family room when voices rose behind the partly closed doors.
“You sent police to my apartment?” Julian snapped.
“You were in my basement before my sons became sick.”
“I visited my nephews.”
“At midnight?”
Silence.
Claire stopped moving.
Julian said, “You’ve already decided I did something.”
“I’ve decided I want the truth.”
“You’ve never wanted the truth where my sister was concerned.”
Vincent’s voice became cold.
“Don’t bring Amelia into this.”
“She’s the reason we’re having this conversation.”
Claire heard a chair scrape.
“What does that mean?”
Another silence.
Then Julian said something unexpected.
“She knew.”
Claire slowly rose.
Vincent’s voice changed.
“Knew what?”
“About the basement room.”
Claire moved closer to the doorway.
Julian continued.
“My grandfather used that section decades ago when the property still belonged to our family.”
Claire hadn’t known that.
Apparently neither had Vincent.
“You told me this estate was renovated completely before Amelia and I bought it.”
“It was supposed to be.”
“Supposed to be?”
“There were old storage areas behind the mechanical corridor. Chemicals from restoration work. Pest treatments. God knows what else.”
Vincent slammed something onto the desk.
“And nobody told me?”
“My sister knew.”
“Amelia would have told me.”
“No. She didn’t.”
“You’re lying.”
“I wish I were.”
Julian’s voice softened.
“Three months before she died, Amelia discovered records showing hazardous materials had never been professionally removed from part of the basement.”
Claire’s stomach tightened.
Vincent said nothing.
“She contacted Nathan Cole,” Julian continued. “Not because he treated her. Because he knew an environmental consultant.”
“Why wouldn’t she tell me?”
“Because you two were fighting constantly.”
Claire stepped back.
This was not something she should hear.
But the next sentence stopped her.
“She thought the chemical exposure might have contributed to her illness.”
Vincent’s voice became barely audible.
“Amelia died in a car accident.”
“She had blackouts before the accident.”
Silence.
Long.
Terrible.
Then Vincent said, “Get out.”
Julian continued quickly.
“She was investigating something, Vincent.”
“Get out.”
“The basement entries weren’t about harming the boys.”
“Then why were you there with Cole?”
“I was trying to find Amelia’s records.”
Vincent’s chair moved violently.
Claire heard footsteps.
She stepped away just before the office door opened.
Julian emerged first.
His face was red.
His attorney followed.
Vincent remained inside.
Julian noticed Claire.
“You’re the nanny.”
“Yes.”
“The one who found the vent.”
“Yes.”
He looked toward the stairs.
“Are Ethan and Noah okay?”
“They’re improving.”
Something genuine crossed his face.
Relief.
“Good.”
He walked away.
Claire entered Vincent’s office without knocking.
He stood facing the window.
“You heard.”
“Some.”
He didn’t turn.
“Amelia died three years ago.”
“I know.”
“The police said she lost control on a wet road.”
Claire waited.
“She had complained about headaches before that. Dizziness.”
Vincent turned.
His face looked hollow.
“I thought it was stress.”
“Did she spend much time near the west wing?”
“It was being remodeled.”
He closed his eyes.
“She supervised everything.”
Claire understood what he feared.
“You don’t know that those chemicals affected her.”
“No.”
“But now I have to wonder.”
“Yes.”
Vincent looked toward a framed photograph on his desk.
A woman with dark hair stood between two toddler boys.
Amelia.
Claire had seen her photographs throughout the mansion.
Vincent picked up the frame.
“She hated asking for help.”
“Some people do.”
“She thought every problem could be solved privately.”
Claire looked at him.
“That sounds familiar.”
He gave a humorless laugh.
“Fair.”
His phone rang.
Detective Rachel Monroe.
Vincent answered on speaker.
“We have preliminary information,” she said.
“Tell me.”
“The environmental lab identified several compounds in that storage room. None are substances anyone should be breathing continuously.”
Claire’s pulse quickened.
“Can they explain the symptoms?” Vincent asked.
“Potentially. But we’re waiting on concentrations and medical correlation.”
“And the modified duct?”
“We had an engineer examine it.”
“What did he find?”
“The connection was intentionally installed.”
Vincent’s expression hardened.
“When?”
“Estimated six to ten months ago.”
Claire closed her eyes.
That timeline fit almost perfectly.
Monroe continued.
“There’s another issue.”
“What?”
“Your security footage.”
Vincent looked toward Claire.
“The footage showing Cole and Julian?”
“Yes. We enhanced several sequences.”
“And?”
“They weren’t carrying chemicals into the basement.”
Claire frowned.
“What were they carrying?”
“Boxes out.”
Vincent stared at the phone.
Monroe continued.
“It appears they were removing items from the hidden room.”
“Then who installed the duct?”
“We don’t know.”
Julian’s story suddenly sounded more plausible.
Claire said, “Could someone have altered the system after they left?”
“Yes.”
Vincent asked, “Who?”
“That’s what we’re working on.”
After the call ended, Vincent sat slowly.
“So Julian may have been telling the truth.”
“Maybe.”
“And Cole?”
“Maybe partly.”
Vincent looked annoyed.
“You don’t trust him.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because people who have nothing to hide usually don’t tell nannies they’re interfering with things they don’t understand.”
Vincent considered that.
A knock came.
Mrs. Harper entered carrying an envelope.
“This was delivered by courier.”
“For me?”
“No.”
She looked at Claire.
“It’s addressed to Miss Morgan.”
Claire frowned.
Nobody outside the agency should know she was there.
She accepted it.
No return address.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
Four words were typed in the center.
STOP ASKING ABOUT THE VENTS.
Vincent read it over her shoulder.
His entire expression changed.
“Security.”
Claire stared at the message.
Vincent grabbed his phone.
But she noticed something else.
There was a faint brown smudge near the bottom edge of the paper.
Not dirt.
It smelled faintly sweet.
The same odor from the vent.
Claire looked up.
“Vincent.”
May you like
“What?”
“Whoever sent this has been inside that room.”
Related Stories
