Chapter 3 - THE FIRE IN THE ARCHIVESSmoke poured from beneath the basement door.
Jonathan shouted for everyone to evacuate.
Annie did the opposite.
She ran toward the stairs.
Victoria grabbed her arm.
“Are you insane?”
“Possibly.”
“The archives are down there.”
“Exactly.”
Jonathan blocked them.
“Neither of you is going downstairs.”
Annie held up the tiny key.
“Somebody saw us find this.”
Jonathan stared.
Before he could respond, sprinklers activated throughout the basement.
Security rushed past.
Fortunately, the fire was contained to one storage room.
Unfortunately, that room contained employee records dating back thirty years.
Someone had known exactly what to burn.
The fire department arrived.
Police followed.
By midnight, everyone was gathered in Jonathan’s library.
Daphne sat near the fireplace, looking concerned but not surprised.
“Electrical fires happen in old houses.”
Annie looked at her.
“Amazing timing.”
Daphne ignored her.
Jonathan spoke sharply.
“That room was renovated three years ago.”
“Then perhaps the contractor—”
“The fire started inside a filing cabinet.”
Silence.
Victoria stared at her aunt.
Daphne sighed.
“You cannot seriously believe I started a fire inside my brother’s home.”
“I don’t know what I believe anymore.”
The words hurt Daphne.
Or she performed hurt convincingly.
“You are upset.”
“Stop telling me how I feel.”
“Victoria—”
“No.”
Everyone in the room froze.
Victoria had screamed at employees countless times.
Nobody had ever heard her speak to Daphne that way.
“My whole life, you told me Ruth Carter killed my mother.”
“I said no such thing.”
“You said she caused the argument.”
“That is different.”
“You told me she stole from us.”
“The police suspected—”
Jonathan interrupted.
“No.”
Daphne looked at him.
He continued.
“The police never suspected Ruth.”
Victoria turned toward her father.
“What?”
Jonathan closed his eyes.
“The missing jewelry report was withdrawn.”
“When?”
“The next morning.”
“By whom?”
“Me.”
Victoria stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because nothing had been stolen.”
The room seemed to shrink.
Victoria stood.
“You knew?”
“I knew the jewelry wasn’t missing.”
“Then why did you let me believe Ruth stole it?”
Jonathan looked ashamed.
“I didn’t understand how much Daphne had told you.”
Victoria laughed once.
Annie hated the sound.
It was the laugh of someone discovering that the adults who shaped her childhood had failed her in different ways.
“My mother dies. Ruth disappears. Aunt Daphne tells me Ruth was a thief. Then letters arrive for ten years warning me against household staff.”
She looked at Jonathan.
“And you never thought any of that was strange?”
“I was drowning.”
“So was I!”
Jonathan had no answer.
Victoria’s eyes filled.
“You had grief.”
She pressed a hand to her chest.
“I had nobody.”
“You had me.”
“No. I had your money.”
That landed harder than shouting.
“You went to Singapore six days after Mom’s funeral.”
Jonathan whispered, “There was a merger.”
Annie closed her eyes briefly.
Of course there was.
Six billion dollars had apparently required sacrifices.
A little girl’s grief had been one of them.
Daphne stood.
“I stayed.”
Victoria looked at her.
“Yes.”
“And I raised you when your father could not.”
“Yes.”
“So before you decide I’m some villain because a stranger arrived wearing Ruth Carter’s necklace, perhaps remember who actually remained beside you.”
Annie noticed the technique immediately.
Daphne did not answer questions.
She invoiced Victoria emotionally.
Every challenge became proof of disloyalty.
Victoria’s confidence faded.
Annie intervened.
“Where was Ruth the night Elena died?”
Daphne’s eyes turned cold.
“This is a family matter.”
“My mother is in it.”
“She was dismissed.”
“By whom?”
“Elena.”
Jonathan looked up.
“That’s not true.”
Daphne turned.
Jonathan stood.
“Elena didn’t fire Ruth.”
“You weren’t home.”
“I spoke to Elena that afternoon.”
“And people change their minds.”
Jonathan’s expression hardened.
“Daphne.”
For the first time, his sister lost some composure.
“I’m tired. We all are.”
She walked toward the door.
Annie called after her.
“Who’s Claire?”
Daphne stopped.
Her shoulders stiffened.
Victoria noticed.
Jonathan noticed too.
Annie held up the photograph.
“Elena, Ruth, and Claire.”
Daphne turned slowly.
“I have no idea.”
Annie smiled faintly.
“That was too fast.”
Daphne left.
At 2:00 a.m., Annie sat with Margaret in the staff kitchen.
Margaret had changed clothes but still smelled faintly of tomato soup.
“You should go home,” Annie said.
Margaret smiled.
“My husband died four years ago. This is home.”
That answer bothered Annie more than expected.
“Why stay after what Victoria does?”
“Because she wasn’t always like this.”
Margaret stirred her tea.
“When she was little, she followed Ruth everywhere.”
Annie froze.
“You knew my mother?”
“Everyone did.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“Mr. Ashford made us sign confidentiality agreements after Mrs. Ashford died.”
“Those don’t stop you from telling me my mother worked here.”
“The way Daphne explained it, Ruth wanted a clean break.”
Margaret leaned closer.
“She said Ruth threatened to sue anyone who contacted her.”
“My mother never had money for a lawyer.”
“I know that now.”
“What was she like here?”
Margaret smiled.
“Stubborn.”
Annie laughed despite herself.
“That sounds right.”
“Kind. Funny. She sang Motown songs while polishing silver and drove Mrs. Ashford crazy because she refused to iron bedsheets.”
Annie swallowed.
“Mom said ironing sheets was proof rich people had too much free time.”
Margaret laughed.
“That’s exactly what she said.”
Annie’s eyes burned.
For a moment, her mother felt alive again.
“Tell me about the night Elena died.”
Margaret’s smile disappeared.
“I wasn’t here.”
“Who was?”
“Ruth. Daphne. Victoria. Elena.”
“And Claire?”
Margaret looked startled.
“You know about Claire?”
“Who was she?”
“Claire Beaumont. Mrs. Ashford’s private nurse.”
“Why did Elena need a nurse?”
Margaret hesitated.
“That’s another thing nobody discusses.”
“Start discussing.”
Margaret looked toward the door.
“Elena had been sick.”
“With what?”
“We thought migraines. Fainting spells. She lost weight.”
Annie frowned.
“Was she being treated?”
“Claire handled her medications.”
“What happened to Claire?”
“She vanished after the funeral.”
Two women associated with Elena vanished.
Ruth.
Claire.
Annie’s instincts sharpened.
“Did police interview her?”
“I don’t know.”
“What about security footage?”
“This was 2004. Cameras weren’t everywhere like now.”
Annie thought of the key.
“Where did Elena keep important documents?”
“Her study.”
“Where?”
“West wing.”
“Show me.”
Margaret hesitated.
“Now?”
“Someone just burned the archives. Tomorrow seems optimistic.”
They climbed the servants’ staircase.
Margaret led Annie to a narrow room sealed behind decorative paneling.
Elena’s former study had been converted into storage.
Boxes.
Old furniture.
Portraits.
Annie searched for nearly an hour.
Then she found a small walnut writing desk.
Three drawers.
The first two opened.
The third had no visible keyhole.
Annie ran her hand underneath.
Metal.
A hidden lock.
She inserted the brass key from her pendant.
Click.
The drawer opened.
Inside was a cassette recorder.
Several photographs.
A sealed medical envelope.
And a letter.
TO RUTH.
Annie’s hands shook.
She opened it.
Ruth,
If you are reading this, I was unable to leave as planned. Do not believe anything Daphne says about me. Take Victoria somewhere safe. Claire has confirmed what I feared. Someone has been altering my medication.
Annie stopped.
Margaret gasped.
The letter continued.
Jonathan will not believe me without proof. The test results are in Claire’s possession. If anything happens before we can reach the police, protect my daughter from this house.
Annie’s blood ran cold.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway.
Margaret turned.
The door swung open.
Victoria stood there.
She saw the letter.
“What does it say?”
Annie hesitated.
Victoria’s face hardened.
“Don’t lie to me too.”
So Annie gave her the letter.
Victoria read.
Once.
Twice.
Her knees buckled.
Annie caught her before she hit the floor.
“My mother knew.”
Victoria sobbed.
“She knew somebody was hurting her.”
Annie held her upright.
Victoria looked at the final line again.
Protect my daughter from this house.
“My whole life,” she whispered, “I thought the people working here were dangerous.”
She looked around the dark study.
“But maybe the dangerous person was family.”
A floorboard creaked outside.
Annie rushed into the corridor.
Nobody.
But lying on the carpet was a fresh white rose.
Victoria stared at it.
Her face became pale.
“What?”
Annie asked.
Victoria whispered, “My mother had white roses on her coffin.”
Attached to the stem was a handwritten note.
STOP DIGGING, OR RUTH’S DAUGHTER WILL END LIKE ELENA.
Annie read it once.
Then folded it carefully.
Victoria looked terrified.
Annie looked furious.
“Good.”
Victoria stared at her.
“Good?”
“Yes.”
Annie put the note in her pocket.
“Because whoever wrote this just made a mistake.”
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“What mistake?”
“They confirmed we’re getting close.”
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