Chapter 2 - THE DOOR THAT WOULDN'T OPEN
The orchestra played a waltz outside the locked hall while Claire stood
motionless before her father. His final sentence seemed to hang in the warm
air longer than the music.
"Say that again," she demanded. Malcolm adjusted his cuff as though
discussing a late shipment. "I said the children are alive. You should be
grateful for reliable information."
Elena pressed Ruby's coat to her chest. Claire noticed the maid's breathing
had become fast and shallow. The assault had left her dizzy, though she
fought to stay upright.
"She needs medical attention," Claire said. "Open that door." Malcolm nodded
toward a guard but did not give the necessary order. His deliberate
hesitation told Claire everything.
Dominic had pulled himself to his feet. He held his ribs and watched Claire
with naked resentment. "You broke my—" he began, but Malcolm silenced him
with one lifted finger.
"My daughter has an unfortunate talent for embarrassing men who underestimate
her." Malcolm turned to Claire. "And you have inherited your mother's habit
of becoming involved in matters beyond your reach."
Claire's mother, Helen, had died eight years earlier when her car left a
rain-darkened road. Authorities had called it an accident. Malcolm had paid
for the funeral and discouraged questions.
"Leave my mother out of this," Claire said. "Tell me where Anna Bell is,
too." For the first time, Malcolm's expression tightened around the eyes.
"Anna made promises she couldn't keep." He glanced at the guards. "Take Miss
Morales to the service corridor. Give her ice, water, whatever she needs."
One guard approached Elena. Claire stepped across his path. "She stays with
me." The guard hesitated, searching Malcolm's face for permission to use
force.
Malcolm studied the bruising beginning to rise on Claire's cheek. The sight
seemed to irritate him, not because she was hurt, but because others might
notice.
"Fine," he said. "Both women will wait in the winter conservatory until we
settle this privately. Dominic, you will stay here and collect every item
from that suitcase."
Claire knew the conservatory. As a child, she had hidden among its lemon
trees whenever the mansion filled with men who lowered their voices as she
approached.
She also knew its east door led toward the old kitchen passage. Long ago,
Helen had shown her a telephone mounted beside the pantry, independent of the
mansion's decorative intercom system.
Claire lowered the visible passport. "If you want my cooperation, those
guards don't touch either of us again." Malcolm weighed the demand before
nodding once.
They followed a guard through the conservatory doors. Behind them, Dominic
began picking up spilled clothing, his movements angry and clumsy. Claire
caught the sound of Malcolm issuing another instruction.
"Bring the car around after the speeches," her father said softly. "And
nothing leaves this house without my approval." Claire stored the words
carefully, unsure which car he meant.
The conservatory smelled of damp earth and citrus blossoms. Outside, the
Hudson Valley hills were black against a sky threatening rain. Inside,
antique lamps burned among enormous potted palms.
Elena sank onto a wicker bench. Her hands remained clenched around Ruby's
coat. "I thought he'd kill me," she whispered. "I really thought I was going
to die there."
Claire knelt before her. "Look at me. Can you tell me your name and where you
are?" Elena answered both questions, though tears slid down her face.
"You're not staying alone," Claire said. "And nobody is sending you back to
him." She gently checked whether Elena could focus her eyes and warned her to
report worsening dizziness.
Elena swallowed. "I heard Dominic speaking to someone from Voss Freight. He
said the children would be given their new names before the flight. Then he
mentioned the mother."
"What about Anna?" Claire asked. A distant thunderclap rolled across the
glass roof. Elena looked toward the conservatory doors, afraid the guard
might hear them.
"He said she was still at Blackwater," Elena murmured. "Something about Pier
Nineteen. He said if she wouldn't sign, they would show her the little boy's
picture."
Claire felt cold despite the humid room. Anna Bell had worked as an accounts
auditor for Voss Freight before she fled with her children and sought refuge
at Harbor House.
Anna had refused to explain precisely what she had uncovered. She carried a
small envelope everywhere and slept with her bedroom light on, terrified
someone had followed her.
"Did you hear a departure time?" Claire asked. Elena closed her eyes, forcing
herself to remember. "He said four-forty. And something called Orchard
Seventeen."
Claire repeated the details aloud. "Blackwater. Pier Nineteen. Four-forty.
Orchard Seventeen." The names sounded like fragments of a map whose center
remained hidden.
A guard stood outside the glass door, apparently pretending not to listen.
Claire rose and crossed toward an ornamental cabinet, where she knew an
emergency gardening exit had once been concealed.
The handle was locked. Her father had anticipated her childhood escape
routes. Yet a narrow passage remained behind a row of orange trees, leading
toward the kitchen pantry.
"Can you walk?" Claire asked. Elena tried standing and nodded, though she
leaned on the bench. Claire supported her with one arm and led her between
the foliage.
Their shoes made faint sounds against the wet stone floor. At the rear wall,
Claire pushed a service panel concealed behind stacked watering cans. It
moved only a few inches.
A heavy shelf blocked it from the other side. Claire braced her shoulder
against the panel. Elena added her weight, and together they shifted the
obstruction enough to squeeze through.
The pantry beyond was dark except for a blue night-light. For one aching
second, Claire felt eight years old again, sneaking through the house to
escape an argument upstairs.
The old wall telephone hung exactly where Helen had left it. Claire lifted
the receiver, heard a dial tone, and nearly cried from the ordinary comfort
of that sound.
She dialed Detective Mara Ellis, the county investigator assigned to the
Bells' disappearance. Mara had given Claire a direct number and told her to
use it if anyone contacted her about the children.
The line rang twice. "Ellis." Claire spoke quickly. "Mara, it's Claire. I'm
at Voss House. Ruby and Owen's forged passports are here. Anna may be at
Blackwater, Pier Nineteen."
"Are you safe?" Mara asked. Claire glanced at Elena, who stood clutching the
blue coat. "No. The doors are locked. Dominic Rourke assaulted a maid. My
father knows about the kidnapping."
Something scraped behind the pantry door. Claire lowered her voice. "Orchard
Seventeen. Departure at four-forty. I don't know whether that's a place or a
code."
"Listen carefully," Mara replied. "Do not confront anyone else. Keep your
location open to me, and—" The pantry door handle turned sharply from the
other side.
Claire's heart hammered. She whispered, "We may lose the line." Mara
answered, "I'm sending help. Get away from the door if you can."
Elena spotted a bolt above the handle and slid it home. The door shuddered
beneath an impatient hand. Claire covered the receiver and listened to the
guard calling someone in the hallway.
She could not hold the door forever. But Mara had heard the names, and for
the first time tonight the truth had traveled beyond her father's walls.
"Claire?" Mara's voice came thinly through the receiver. "One more thing.
Whatever happens, keep one of those passports. We need to prove where the
children were going."
Claire touched the hidden passport beneath her dress. Then the guard struck
May you like
the pantry door hard enough to rattle its hinges, and the telephone line
abruptly went dead.
