Chapter 4 - The Door Nobody Opened
The north wing began behind a pair of carved walnut doors.
They were always locked.
Clara had passed them three times while cleaning the second-floor hallway.
Every time, Mrs. Hargrove's warning returned to her.
Never enter the north wing.
That night, Clara stood outside the doors with Noah's drawing folded inside her pocket.
She had no key.
She had no authority.
And she had Tyler calling from the hospital asking whether she had eaten dinner.
"Clara?"
His voice sounded weaker than usual.
"I'm here."
"Mom says the surgeon wants another deposit."
Clara closed her eyes.
"How much?"
"Twelve thousand."
Her throat tightened.
She had seventy-three dollars in her checking account.
"I'll figure it out."
"You always say that."
"Because I always do."
After the call ended, Clara turned away from the locked doors.
Losing the job would not save Noah.
It would destroy Tyler.
She had almost reached the servants' staircase when she heard something.
Music.
Very faint.
A woman's voice singing through the wall.
Clara stopped.
The sound lasted only four seconds.
Then silence.
She pressed her ear against the walnut door.
Nothing.
The next morning, she asked Dominic whether Noah's mother used to sing.
Dominic's coffee cup stopped halfway to his mouth.
"Why?"
"Just wondering."
His expression changed.
"Elena sang to him every night."
"What song?"
Dominic gave her the title.
Clara felt the blood drain from her face.
It was the melody she had heard behind the north-wing door.
Dominic noticed.
"What?"
Clara hesitated.
Then told him.
He stood immediately.
They reached the north wing together.
Dominic tried the handle.
Locked.
His face darkened.
"Hargrove."
The house manager arrived less than a minute later.
"Open this."
Her eyes moved to Clara.
"Mr. Vale, that wing has been closed since Mrs. Vale died."
"I know."
"The pipes are unreliable."
"Open it."
Mrs. Hargrove produced a key.
Inside, dust sheets covered furniture.
The corridor smelled stale.
Dominic walked through three bedrooms.
Empty.
Clara followed the faint memory of the music.
At the end of the hall stood a smaller red door.
Exactly like Noah's drawing.
Dominic tried it.
Locked.
Mrs. Hargrove spoke behind them.
"Storage."
Dominic held out his hand.
"The key."
"I don't carry it."
"Then who does?"
"No one."
Dominic stared at her.
Clara looked down.
On the floor beside the red door was a tiny plastic button.
Blue.
She recognized it.
It had come from Noah's navy sweater.
The one he had been wearing the previous night.
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And there was only one way it could have gotten inside a wing nobody was supposed to enter.
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