Chapter 8 - THE LOCKED ROOM
Arthur’s house had twelve bedrooms and very few places where Celeste had ever felt welcome.
Her mother’s sewing room had been one.
After her mother died, Arthur locked it.
He said grief made people cling to useless things.
Celeste had been twenty-two.
She had believed grown men knew more about grief than she did.
Vivian called that afternoon.
“I found your hospital bag.”
Celeste sat upright.
“Where?”
“In the room upstairs. The locked one.”
“How did you get in?”
“Dad left his keys.”
Brooks gestured for Celeste to keep her talking.
“What’s in the bag?”
“Clothes. A watch. Some military stuff. There’s a brown pouch.”
“Don’t touch anything else,” Celeste said. “Take a picture of where it is.”
“I already opened it.”
Of course she had.
Vivian breathed faster.
“There are papers. I don’t understand them.”
“Photograph them.”
A sound came through the phone.
A door downstairs.
Vivian whispered, “He’s home.”
“Leave the room.”
“I can’t. He’s on the stairs.”
“Vivian, listen to me.”
The line crackled against fabric.
Then Arthur’s voice.
“What are you doing in here?”
Vivian tried to sound annoyed.
“Looking for Mom’s earrings.”
“Give me the phone.”
“Dad—”
“Give it to me.”
Celeste stood.
Brooks was already calling.
Arthur came on the line.
“You always were good at turning people against me.”
“Let her leave.”
“This is my home.”
“Then act like someone she should feel safe with.”
His breath scraped across the microphone.
“You have no idea what I protected you from.”
“Tell me.”
For a moment, she thought he might.
Instead, he said, “You should have stayed away.”
The call ended.
Brooks requested a welfare check and contacted the investigators working on the house evidence.
Celeste paced.
Ten minutes.
Fifteen.
Then a message from an unfamiliar number.
It was Vivian.
I’m out. Neighbor’s phone. He broke mine.
Under it came one photograph.
A handwritten note.
Mara’s handwriting.
If this reaches anyone outside Station Nine, compare the shipment manifests to the paid invoices. The missing safety equipment is only the beginning.
At the bottom was a list of names.
Celeste recognized three.
Arthur Warren.
May you like
Julian Cross.
And Daniel Pierce—the man scheduled to receive the foundation’s humanitarian award the following night.
