Chapter 2 - SIX MONTHS EARLIER
Six months earlier, Mara Quinn had arrived at the Callahan estate wearing shoes with a hole in the left sole.
She had covered it with black tape.
The woman interviewing her noticed.
Of course she noticed.
Everything about Celeste Callahan looked expensive enough to notice poverty.
Her cream dress probably cost more than Mara’s old car.
“You understand this is a live-in position?” Celeste asked.
“Yes.”
“Long hours.”
“I’m used to long hours.”
“And discretion is essential.”
Mara almost laughed.
Rich people loved that word.
Discretion.
It usually meant, See something ugly and pretend you didn’t.
“I can be discreet.”
Celeste studied the résumé.
“You worked in emergency medicine?”
“EMT.”
“Why did you leave?”
There it was.
Mara had rehearsed the answer on the bus.
“I made a bad decision.”
Celeste waited.
Mara hated that silence.
Rich people used silence like a weapon.
“My fiancé was stealing pain medication from an ambulance supply locker. I knew. I didn’t report him right away.”
“And you were charged?”
“Obstruction. Tampering with records.”
“You served eight months.”
“Yes.”
“Why should I trust you?”
Mara met her eyes.
“Because losing everything teaches you what not to lose twice.”
Celeste’s expression changed.
Just a little.
Then a small voice came from the hallway.
“Mom?”
A boy stood there.
Eight years old.
Thin.
Dark hair.
Huge brown eyes.
Eli.
Celeste smiled.
The smile was instant and perfect.
“Sweetheart, I told you to stay with Mrs. Bell.”
“I hate Mrs. Bell.”
Mara covered a smile.
Eli saw it.
“You think it’s funny?”
“A little.”
“Mrs. Bell smells like pickles.”
“Eli.”
“What? She does.”
Mara laughed.
For the first time in months, it felt natural.
Eli walked closer.
“What happened to your shoe?”
Mara looked down.
“Shark attack.”
His eyes widened.
“Seriously?”
“Very aggressive sidewalk shark.”
Eli stared at her.
Then he smiled.
That smile got Mara the job.
By sunset, she had a bedroom over the staff kitchen, a uniform, and a list of rules three pages long.
No guests.
No photographs.
No access to the east wing after 8:00 p.m.
No discussion of family matters outside the property.
No entering Mr. Grant Callahan’s study.
No interfering with Eli’s medication schedule.
That last one bothered Mara.
“What medication?” she asked Mrs. Bell.
The older housekeeper stiffened.
“Not your concern.”
“Does he have a medical condition?”
Mrs. Bell looked toward the security camera in the ceiling.
Then back at Mara.
“Learn something early.”
“What?”
“In this house, questions cost more than answers.”
That night, Mara woke at 2:13 a.m. to the sound of glass breaking.
She ran into the hallway.
Eli was standing there.
Barefoot.
Shaking.
“There’s someone in my wall,” he whispered.
Mara crouched.
“What?”
“A woman.”
He pointed toward the dark east wing.
“She cries at night.”
Mara looked down the empty hallway.
Then she heard it.
Faint.
Muffled.
May you like
A woman’s voice.
“Eli…”
