Chapter 2 - THE NAME ON THE DOOR
The police arrived eleven minutes later.
By then, Claire had been pulled safely onto the terrace.
A paramedic wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.
Ethan refused to leave her side.
Eleanor stood across the ballroom speaking rapidly to an officer.
“She slipped.”
Claire lifted her head.
“No.”
Every conversation stopped.
“She pushed me.”
Eleanor stared at her.
“You were hysterical.”
“You grabbed my wrist.”
“I was trying to stop you from falling.”
A guest stepped forward.
“I saw Mrs. Whitmore push her.”
Another woman raised her hand.
“So did I.”
Eleanor’s confidence cracked.
Ethan looked at his stepmother with disgust.
“Why?”
Eleanor said nothing.
Claire touched Ethan’s arm.
“There’s a door under the terrace.”
He looked at her.
“What?”
“It has my initials on it.”
Eleanor immediately turned toward them.
“Officer, I want these people removed from my property.”
Ethan laughed once.
“Your property?”
His voice was suddenly cold.
“This estate belongs to the Whitmore Family Trust.”
Eleanor’s jaw tightened.
“And I am the acting trustee.”
“Not tonight.”
Ethan turned to the police.
“I own forty percent of this property.”
He pointed toward the terrace.
“You have my permission to search the lower level.”
Eleanor stepped forward.
“You don’t know what you’re doing.”
Claire looked at her.
“That’s exactly what you said to my mother, isn’t it?”
The room fell silent again.
Eleanor’s eyes flickered.
That was enough.
Claire knew she had touched the truth.
Two officers followed Ethan and Claire down the service stairs.
The stone corridor beneath the terrace smelled of dust and damp wood.
At the end stood the rusted door.
The letters were still visible.
C.B.W.
Ethan touched them.
“Who wrote this?”
Claire shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
The officer forced the lock.
The door groaned open.
Inside was a small room.
There was an old wooden chair.
A broken lamp.
A child’s blanket.
And a wall covered in photographs.
Claire stepped inside.
Her knees nearly gave way.
Every photograph was of her.
Claire at age six.
Claire at age ten.
Claire leaving high school.
Claire at college.
Claire outside her first apartment.
Ethan stared at the wall.
“Someone has been watching you your entire life.”
Claire moved closer.
Then she saw the final photograph.
It had been taken three days earlier.
Claire was standing outside the Whitmore estate.
May you like
On the back, someone had written one sentence.
SHE CAME HOME.
