Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Brought the Keys
Celia Finch's voice carried down the stairs with the smoothness Elena remembered from their first meeting. It was a voice built to sell beautiful rooms while keeping their defects out of view.
"I'm not here to hurt either of you," she said. "I need you to understand what happens if you make a scene."
Elena stood beside Dominic, phone in her right hand, flashlight in her left. She had told herself she was coming back to help a wounded man, not to be locked inside a house by the woman who had paid her to enter it. Panic pressed against her ribs, but she was thinking now of the address beneath Noah's emergency card. She had not been foolish enough to leave no trail.
"Open the door," Elena called. "He needs a hospital."
"Marcus will send a doctor."
"The last doctor didn't get him out of the basement." Elena took a step toward the stairs. "Do you want to be the last person who refused him help?"
Celia did not answer immediately. Dominic raised one hand, warning Elena to stay back. She ignored it. He was in no condition to climb the stairs, much less negotiate with a person who had helped imprison him.
"Why did you send me here?" Elena demanded.
"I thought the basement was empty." For the first time, Celia sounded like an ordinary frightened woman. "Marcus told me there would be stains to clean up before the appraisal. I didn't ask what kind."
"You saw me leave yesterday. You saw the blood on my clothes."
"And I called Marcus. I told him you were there. He said he'd handled it." Her breath caught. "He said I couldn't back out now."
Elena stared at the bolted door. "You could have told me to stay away."
"I know."
A car engine started outside. Celia went quiet. Through a narrow basement window Elena saw headlights move across the wall. Someone had arrived. She imagined Marcus coming down the stairs with the same clean sleeves and cold gray eyes, asking again who would believe a cleaning woman.
"Dr. Mae Ortiz," Elena said sharply to Dominic. "What do I tell her?"
"That I missed the third Wednesday. Tell her I'm under the old Lake Forest house."
Elena dialed. A recorded voice directed calls from the hospital switchboard. She left the phone on speaker and asked for Ortiz. A nurse said the doctor was on duty but couldn't come to a phone right away. Elena gave the message and her number. She did not disclose Noah's address.
Upstairs, a man's voice asked Celia whether the cellar was ready. It was not Marcus. He sounded younger, impatient. A key rattled against another key. Elena turned her phone's recorder on and held it near the stairwell.
"Your boss said the cleaners finished," the man complained.
"They did. There's a plumbing problem down there."
"Then why did you lock it?"
"Because the inspection isn't until Friday."
Dominic's expression changed at the word inspection. He gestured weakly for Elena to come closer. "Friday. They're selling the building portfolio. That's why they need me gone."
"Does he need your signature?"
"He forged one. He needs me not to dispute it."
The person above them walked away. Celia lingered. "They'll be back in ten minutes," she whispered through the door. "Marcus's people. I can't fight them."
"Then stop working for them," Elena said. "Unlock it and go somewhere safe. You can tell the police what you did. I'll tell them what I saw."
Celia said nothing. A second later, the bolt slid back. The door opened only a few inches before Celia pushed a ring of keys through. "The rear gate. Blue tag. There's a service road beyond the kitchen garden."
"Come down here," Elena said. "Look at him."
Celia descended three steps. When her eyes fell on Dominic's gray face, she gripped the railing as if the staircase had lurched. "Jesus. He was supposed to be in Switzerland. Marcus said he left the country."
"He locked me here," Dominic said. "You delivered the keys."
Celia swallowed. "I didn't know what I was delivering."
"You knew enough yesterday," Elena replied. "Make a better choice today."
Celia bent and left a folder on the stair. It contained a printed schedule: Friday, eleven a.m.; Harbor House portfolio signing; inspection and transfer of title. There were six buildings listed, including a residential property on the street where Elena and Noah lived. The name of the purchaser was a blank space marked NOMINEE TO BE CONFIRMED.
Elena went cold. Her own home had appeared on the sale list. She thought of the peeling paint at the window, Mrs. Patterson's arthritis, the children lining up for the school bus. She thought of how Marcus had described her apartment while holding her against the basement wall.
Her phone rang. The display showed the hospital number. She answered on the first vibration.
"This is Dr. Ortiz," a woman said. "Who told you about the third Wednesday?"
"Dominic Crane did. He's alive, and he's hurt."
A pause. "Put him on."
Elena passed the phone. Dominic murmured something she couldn't hear. Ortiz asked a few questions, then spoke directly to Elena. "He needs emergency care now. I'm calling an ambulance and law enforcement. Tell me the address."
Elena gave it. Celia shook her head, panicking, but Elena kept speaking until the dispatcher confirmed the location. Then she disconnected and took a picture of Celia's folder. She put the keys in her apron pocket.
"You aren't taking him out through the garden," Celia said. "They'll be watching the road."
"We're waiting here for the ambulance, and you're going to tell the responders which entrance is clear." Elena met her eyes. "If you run, I'm giving them your name."
May you like
A siren sounded in the distance, faint but unmistakable. Dominic closed his eyes, as though the sound was something he had been denied for three weeks.
Then a car door slammed outside. Heavy footsteps crossed the kitchen above them, and Marcus's voice called, almost pleasantly, "Celia, where's our cleaner?"
