Chapter 4 - The House of Shadows
An hour later, a hired taxi dropped Claire and Matthew off at the perimeter gate of the Brooks estate in Potomac, Maryland. The massive stone mansion stood like a silent fortress behind wrought-iron gates, surrounded by ten acres of dense woodland.
The rain had softened to a persistent drizzle. Matthew bypassed the main security intercom, leading Claire along a stone wall to a concealed side gate hidden behind heavy rhododendron bushes. He entered a six-digit code into a keypad, and the lock clicked open quietly.
"My inner security team is managed by my late wife's brother, Richard," Matthew whispered as they moved through the shadows of the manicured gardens. "He took over after Ellen passed. He’s the only one who had access to Vance’s route logs tonight."
Claire pulled her damp coat tighter around herself. "You think her own brother was involved in her death?"
"Richard was deep in gambling debt three years ago," Matthew replied, his jaw tight. "Then suddenly, his debts vanished, and he became the head of security for my entire logistics fleet. If Ellen found out he was leaking shipping manifests to offshore buyers, he had everything to lose."
They reached the rear terrace of the mansion. Soft light glowed through the floor-to-ceiling French doors of the main library. Inside, a silver-haired man in a tailored suit stood near a large mahogany desk, pouring a glass of scotch. On the desk lay Vance's bloodied leather wallet and the keys to Matthew's stolen SUV.
Claire felt a cold shiver run down her spine. "That's him?"
"That's Richard," Matthew growled under his breath.
Suddenly, a tiny figure appeared in the doorway of the library.
It was Leo. The three-year-old boy was wearing his flannel pajamas, holding a stuffed velvet bear. He stood near the entrance, staring at Richard with a look of quiet, unadulterated terror.
Richard set his glass down, turning toward the boy with an artificial, practiced smile. "Leo, buddy. What are you doing out of bed? You should be sleeping."
Leo didn't speak. He took two steps backward, his eyes fixed on Richard's coat pocket—where a small, dark blue notebook protruded. It was the exact duplicate of the journal Claire had seen in her mother's cellar.
Richard’s smile vanished, replaced by an impatient sneer. He stepped toward the boy. "Come here, Leo. Let Uncle Richard take you back upstairs before your father gets home."
Inside the room, Leo turned to run, but his small foot caught the edge of the oriental rug. He fell hard onto the polished hardwood floor, letting out a sharp cry.
Richard lunged forward, grabbing the three-year-old boy roughly by the arm. "I said come here!"
Before Richard could pull Leo up, the French doors shattered inward in an explosion of glass and splintered wood.
Matthew charged into the library like an enraged lion. He grabbed Richard by the collar of his expensive suit, throwing him across the room. Richard smashed into a glass display cabinet, shattering antique porcelain before crashing onto the floor.
"Touch my son again," Matthew roared, stepping over the debris, "and you won't leave this room breathing!"
Claire sprinted through the shattered doorway, dropping to her knees beside Leo. The boy was trembling violently, his eyes wide with panic. The moment he saw Claire, he threw his small arms around her neck, burying his face into her shoulder.
"I've got you," Claire whispered, her tears falling onto his hair as she wrapped her arms around him. "You're safe. I've got you, Leo."
On the floor, Richard coughed up blood, reaching frantically toward his jacket pocket. "Matthew... you don't understand... you don't know what you're dealing with..."
Matthew stepped heavily onto Richard's wrist, pinning his hand to the floor. He reached down and snatched the blue notebook from Richard's pocket, along with a small brass key bearing a stamped serial number.
"I know exactly what I'm dealing with," Matthew said, his voice dropping into a terrifyingly low register. "You sold out my wife. You sold out my company."
"It wasn't just me!" Richard choked out, his eyes darting frantically toward the hallway behind Matthew. "She's alive, Matthew! Ellen didn't die in that car!"
The entire room went dead silent.
Claire raised her head, staring at Richard in absolute shock. Matthew froze, his grip on the notebook tightening until the paper creaked.
May you like
"What did you say?" Matthew asked, his voice shaking with a dangerous, unstable fury.
"The body in the car... it was burned beyond recognition," Richard rasped, a cruel, desperate smile spreading across his bloody lips. "It wasn't Ellen. It was Anne Bennett."
