Chapter 4 - THE LOCKED HOUSE
Christopher grabbed his phone.
No signal.
He tried again.
Nothing.
One of the security guards pulled out his own phone.
“Sir, mine’s dead too.”
“Dead?”
“No service.”
Yvette looked toward the house.
“The estate has a cellular jammer.”
Christopher stared at her.
“You know that?”
“Your father installed it years ago for board meetings. Mrs. Pierce knows how to activate it.”
Christopher’s anger sharpened.
“Get everyone to the front gate. Use the landline at the guard station.”
The head of security, Marcus Hale, stepped forward.
“The electronic gates aren’t responding.”
Christopher turned.
“What?”
“Control panel just went offline.”
A scream came from inside the mansion.
Everyone froze.
Then glass shattered.
Christopher handed Emma to Yvette.
“Stay here.”
Emma wrapped both arms around his neck.
“No!”
“I need to see what happened.”
“She’ll hurt you!”
He held her face in both hands.
“Listen to me. I’m not leaving you. I’m ten seconds away.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
He gave her to Yvette and ran inside with Marcus.
The mansion felt wrong.
Too quiet.
The lights flickered.
At the end of the hall, one of the maids stood beside a broken vase.
“What happened?”
“She came through here.”
“Who?”
“Mrs. Pierce.”
Christopher’s eyes hardened.
“Where did she go?”
“Your study.”
They ran.
The study door was open.
Christopher stopped.
His desk drawers had been pulled out.
Documents covered the floor.
The small safe behind the portrait was open.
Empty.
“No.”
He rushed toward it.
Rachel’s letters were gone.
Emma’s birth certificate.
The original DNA report.
The trust amendment Christopher had signed three months earlier.
All gone.
Marcus swore under his breath.
“Who else knows the combination?”
“My mother.”
Footsteps sounded behind them.
Christopher spun around.
Estelle Pierce stood in the doorway.
Seventy-two years old.
Perfect posture.
Silver hair pinned neatly behind her head.
Not a trace of panic on her face.
“You look ridiculous,” she said.
Christopher stared at his mother.
“My daughter almost died.”
“So I heard.”
“You heard?”
Estelle glanced at his wet clothes.
“You’re dripping on your father’s rug.”
Christopher moved toward her.
“Did you tell Juliette to hurt Emma?”
Estelle sighed.
“You always did ask questions before you were calm enough to hear the answers.”
“Answer me.”
“No.”
“No, you didn’t?”
“No, I will not participate in this hysterical performance.”
Christopher stepped closer.
“I heard your voice.”
Something moved in Estelle’s eyes.
Barely.
But he saw it.
“An audio recording proves nothing.”
“It proves enough.”
“For whom? A jury?”
Christopher’s anger became ice.
“What did you take from my safe?”
Estelle smiled.
That scared him more than denial would have.
“You should be asking what else was in your safe.”
Christopher frowned.
Estelle walked past him and opened the bottom drawer of his desk.
She reached behind the frame.
Then pulled out a thin yellow envelope.
Christopher had never seen it before.
She held it out.
“Rachel left you one final secret.”
Christopher took the envelope.
May you like
On the front, in Rachel’s handwriting, were six words.
IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO ME—READ THIS.
