Chapter 6 - BLACKWOOD HOUSE
Clara left before dawn.
Margaret insisted on coming.
So did Clara's attorney, Samuel Reed.
They drove north through heavy rain.
Blackwood House stood beyond a dead orchard.
Or what remained of it.
The roof was gone.
Walls were blackened.
Trees had grown through the foundation.
Samuel looked around.
“Twenty years is a long time.”
Margaret stepped from the car.
“Secrets survive longer.”
They searched the ruins.
Nothing.
Then Clara noticed stone steps descending behind the house.
“Where does that go?”
Margaret stared.
“Cellar.”
The entrance had been buried beneath weeds.
They cleared it.
Samuel forced the rusted door open.
A terrible smell rose from below.
Not death.
Damp earth.
Mold.
Decay.
They descended.
Clara's flashlight moved across shelves.
Old bottles.
Broken furniture.
A rusted bed frame.
Then Margaret gasped.
On the wall were scratches.
Hundreds of them.
Clara stepped closer.
They were tally marks.
Days.
Maybe years.
Samuel found iron rings embedded in the stone.
Chains lay beneath them.
Clara covered her mouth.
“Someone was kept here.”
Margaret began crying.
“Rose.”
Clara turned.
“How do you know?”
Margaret pointed toward the wall.
Someone had scratched a name into the stone.
DANIEL.
Again.
And again.
DANIEL.
MY SON.
PLEASE FORGIVE ME.
Clara stared.
“She didn't abandon him.”
“No.”
Margaret touched the wall.
“She was imprisoned.”
Samuel photographed everything.
Then Clara noticed something behind the bed frame.
A tin box.
Inside were letters.
Dozens.
All addressed to Daniel.
None had been sent.
Clara opened the first.
My darling Daniel,
If you ever read this, know that I did not leave you.
Clara closed her eyes.
Margaret covered her face.
Samuel opened another.
Then another.
Every letter told the same story.
Rose had been brought to Blackwood House by Eleanor.
Drugged.
Imprisoned.
Threatened.
But the final letter was different.
Clara read aloud.
“Thomas found me.”
Margaret looked up.
“He knows what Eleanor did.”
Clara continued.
“He promised to return tomorrow with police.”
Samuel whispered.
“But Thomas died.”
Clara nodded.
The date on the letter was one day before Thomas Bennett's death.
Suddenly a sound came from upstairs.
A car door.
Samuel extinguished his flashlight.
“Someone's here.”
Footsteps crossed the ruins.
Clara whispered.
“Daniel?”
Margaret shook her head.
Then they heard Victor's voice.
“Check the cellar.”
Clara stared at Samuel.
“Victor was arrested.”
Samuel's face hardened.
“Apparently someone posted bail.”
Men descended.
Samuel pushed Clara behind a stone wall.
“Stay there.”
Victor entered.
Two men followed.
He looked around.
Then saw the letters.
“Too late.”
Samuel stepped forward.
“Police know we're here.”
Victor smiled.
“No, they know you planned to come here.”
He raised his gun.
“Plans change.”
Margaret moved beside Clara.
“There is another exit.”
“Where?”
“Coal tunnel.”
They crawled behind the furnace.
A narrow opening led into darkness.
Samuel followed.
Victor heard them.
“STOP!”
Gunfire exploded.
Stone shattered beside Clara's head.
They crawled faster.
The tunnel narrowed.
Clara struggled to breathe.
Her stomach scraped against the earth.
“I can't.”
Margaret pushed her gently.
“You can.”
Another gunshot.
Then the tunnel ended.
Clara stared at solid rock.
“No.”
Samuel reached them.
“Dead end?”
Margaret shook her head.
“There used to be a hatch.”
They searched desperately.
Victor's flashlight appeared behind them.
Clara felt along the wall.
Her fingers touched metal.
“Here!”
Samuel pulled.
Nothing.
Victor approached.
“You're finished, Clara!”
Samuel kicked the hatch.
Once.
Twice.
It burst open.
Sunlight flooded the tunnel.
They crawled out.
Clara rolled into wet grass.
Samuel helped Margaret.
Then Victor emerged.
He pointed his gun directly at Clara.
“Don't move.”
Clara froze.
Victor smiled.
“Eleanor wants the letters.”
Samuel slowly raised his hands.
“You kill three people and you'll hang.”
Victor shrugged.
“Not if no bodies are found.”
Then a shotgun fired.
Victor screamed.
His pistol flew from his hand.
Everyone turned.
An elderly woman stood near the orchard.
Long silver hair framed her thin face.
A shotgun rested against her shoulder.
Her eyes were fixed on Victor.
“Leave them alone.”
Victor grabbed his bleeding hand.
“Who the hell are you?”
The woman looked at Margaret.
Margaret's knees nearly gave out.
“No…”
Clara stared at her.
The old woman lowered the shotgun.
Margaret whispered a name Clara had heard only in Daniel's memories.
“Rose?”
May you like
The woman began to cry.
And suddenly the greatest secret Eleanor Bennett had buried was standing alive in the ruins of Blackwood House.
