Chapter 2
Nathan did not allow anyone to go upstairs alone.
Not Nora.
Not security.
And certainly not Eleanor.
He carried Jamie halfway up the staircase before the boy whispered, “I can walk.”
Nathan lowered him carefully.
Jamie immediately took his hand.
That small gesture hurt more than Nathan expected.
His son trusted him.
But apparently not enough to tell him what had been happening inside his own home.
Nathan looked back.
Eleanor followed between the two security officers.
Her face had become calm again.
Too calm.
“You’re frightening the child,” she said.
Nathan didn’t stop.
“No. You already did that.”
“Nathan, whatever Jamie thinks he saw—”
“He saw you open my dessert.”
“He misunderstood.”
“He saw you put something inside.”
“He is five.”
“You keep saying that as though being five means being blind.”
Eleanor’s jaw tightened.
They reached the second floor.
Jamie slowed.
Nathan noticed immediately.
“What’s wrong?”
The boy stared toward the west hallway.
Eleanor’s bedroom was there.
So was the small sitting room she used as a private office.
Jamie pointed.
“The box.”
Nathan squeezed his hand.
“You don’t have to come farther.”
Jamie glanced at Eleanor.
Then shook his head.
“I want to stay with you.”
Nora moved beside him.
“I’m here too.”
Nathan gave her a grateful look.
Something had changed between them downstairs.
Until tonight, Nora had simply been an employee.
Now she was one of the few people Jamie seemed to trust.
Nathan didn’t understand why.
That frightened him too.
They stopped outside Eleanor’s suite.
Nathan turned to security.
“Record everything.”
One officer took out his phone.
Eleanor laughed bitterly.
“You are searching your mother’s bedroom because a frightened child mentioned a box.”
Nathan looked at her.
“A frightened child who just stopped me from eating something you handled.”
“I did nothing.”
“Then this ends quickly.”
Nathan opened the door.
Eleanor’s room was immaculate.
Nothing out of place.
No clothing on chairs.
No books left open.
No personal photographs except one of Nathan’s late father.
Even that felt strange now.
Nathan looked at Jamie.
“Where?”
Jamie pointed toward the dressing room.
Eleanor immediately said, “There is nothing there.”
Nathan didn’t respond.
They entered.
Jamie remained at the doorway with Nora.
Nathan opened the closet.
Rows of carefully arranged clothes filled one side.
Shoes lined the bottom shelves.
Boxes occupied the upper storage space.
“Black,” Jamie whispered.
Nathan searched.
Nothing.
He turned.
Eleanor’s expression almost looked victorious.
“There. Are we finished?”
Jamie shook his head.
“It was down there.”
He pointed toward the lowest shelf.
Nathan crouched.
Several shoe boxes.
A leather travel case.
A folded blanket.
No black box.
Nathan pulled everything out.
Empty.
Eleanor crossed her arms.
“You owe me an apology.”
Jamie looked confused.
“It was there.”
Nathan turned.
“I believe you.”
Eleanor’s face tightened.
Nathan ran his hand along the shelf.
Then stopped.
The back panel didn’t feel right.
He pressed it.
Nothing.
Pressed again.
A faint click came from beneath the wood.
Nora inhaled sharply.
Nathan pulled.
The entire lower panel slid forward.
Behind it sat a black metal box.
Nobody spoke.
Jamie stepped backward.
“That one.”
Eleanor’s face went white.
Nathan looked at her.
“You said there was no box.”
She said nothing.
The security officer continued recording.
Nathan pulled the box out.
It was heavier than expected.
A small combination lock secured the front.
Nathan looked at Eleanor.
“Open it.”
“No.”
His voice remained level.
“Open it.”
“It contains private documents.”
“Then open it.”
“You have no right.”
Nathan almost laughed.
“This is my house.”
“This is my property.”
“Then prove that whatever is inside has nothing to do with the thing that was hidden in my food.”
Eleanor stared at him.
Nathan held out his hand.
“The combination.”
“No.”
He looked at security.
“Bring me something to cut the lock.”
Eleanor stepped forward.
“Stop.”
Nathan waited.
Her breathing changed.
“Everyone leaves except you.”
“No.”
“Nathan.”
“Nora stays. Security stays.”
“This is family business.”
Jamie suddenly spoke from the doorway.
“I’m family.”
Eleanor looked at him.
Nathan immediately moved between them.
“Do not intimidate him.”
Her face twisted.
“I am trying to protect this family.”
“From what?”
She didn’t answer.
One of the officers returned with a heavy tool from the maintenance room.
Eleanor closed her eyes.
Nathan broke the lock.
The lid opened.
Nora covered her mouth.
Inside were several small glass containers.
Some empty.
Some holding dried plant material.
Others contained dark shapes.
Nathan felt sick.
One container held three insects that looked almost identical to the creature downstairs.
Beside them were disposable gloves, sealed packets, and a small notebook.
Nathan looked at his mother.
“What is this?”
Eleanor remained silent.
“What is this?”
“They’re specimens.”
“Specimens of what?”
“Garden pests.”
“In a locked box behind a false panel in your closet?”
“I collect unusual things.”
Nathan stared at her.
“You hate gardening.”
Nora looked toward the notebook.
“Sir.”
Nathan picked it up.
Eleanor moved forward.
“Don’t.”
The security officer blocked her.
Nathan opened the first page.
Dates.
Initials.
Short notes.
Nothing obvious.
Then he recognized one set of initials.
NH.
His own.
Beside several dates were words like tired, nausea, dizziness, canceled meeting.
Nathan’s blood went cold.
He flipped another page.
More dates.
More notes.
His medical episodes.
The headaches he had experienced three months earlier.
The strange illness before the annual board vote.
The dinner he had left halfway through because he suddenly felt weak.
All written in his mother’s notebook.
Nathan looked up.
“Why are my illnesses recorded here?”
Eleanor’s lips pressed together.
“They were concerning.”
“So you documented them?”
“Yes.”
“Inside a hidden box?”
She didn’t answer.
Nathan flipped another page.
Then stopped.
One date had been circled.
Tonight.
Next to it were two words.
FINAL DINNER.
Nora whispered, “Oh my God.”
Nathan stared at the handwriting.
He knew it.
Birthday cards.
Christmas notes.
Letters from boarding school.
His mother’s handwriting.
“What does final dinner mean?”
Eleanor’s voice became quiet.
“It does not mean what you think.”
“What does it mean?”
“You’ve been under enormous stress.”
Nathan stepped toward her.
“What does it mean?”
Jamie started crying.
Nathan stopped immediately.
He turned.
His son had seen the words too.
Nathan closed the notebook.
“I’m sorry, buddy.”
Jamie wiped his face.
“Were you going to die?”
Eleanor said quickly, “No!”
Nathan turned sharply.
Jamie stared at her.
“You said Daddy gets sick when he doesn’t listen.”
The room changed.
Nathan slowly faced Jamie.
“What?”
Eleanor’s voice cracked.
“Jamie, stop.”
The boy hid behind Nora.
Nathan moved closer.
“When did Grandma say that?”
Jamie looked terrified.
Nora knelt beside him.
“You’re safe.”
Jamie whispered, “Last week.”
“What exactly did she say?”
Jamie stared at the floor.
“She said Daddy works too much.”
Nathan waited.
“And?”
“She said sometimes people have to get sick so they learn.”
Nathan felt dizzy.
Not from illness.
From realization.
Eleanor shook her head.
“That is completely out of context.”
Nathan turned.
“What context makes that acceptable?”
“I was talking about exhaustion.”
“To a five-year-old?”
She looked away.
Nathan opened the notebook again.
There were more initials.
EH.
RH.
CH.
CH.
Nathan stopped.
Claire Harcourt.
His late wife.
His fingers tightened around the notebook.
The dates beside Claire’s initials began almost three years earlier.
Months before her death.
“Why is Claire in here?”
Eleanor didn’t answer.
Nathan’s heart started pounding.
“Nora.”
Nora looked over.
Nathan pointed.
Her face drained of color.
Eleanor suddenly stepped toward him.
“That notebook is meaningless.”
Nathan backed away.
“Then explain my dead wife’s initials.”
“It was a household health record.”
“Hidden in your closet?”
Silence.
Nathan flipped pages faster.
Claire tired.
Claire stomach pain.
Claire canceled charity dinner.
Claire suspicious.
Nathan froze.
Suspicious.
One word.
Underlined twice.
Then another entry.
Claire confronted me.
Then, three days later:
Problem unresolved.
Nathan’s hands began shaking.
Claire had died six weeks afterward.
A highway accident.
Rain.
A guardrail.
Police said she lost control.
Nathan had spent two years blaming himself because he had argued with her that morning.
He had almost followed her.
Almost apologized.
Instead, he went to work.
And never saw her alive again.
Nathan looked at his mother.
“What did Claire confront you about?”
Eleanor stared at the notebook.
“Nothing important.”
“My wife died.”
“Nathan—”
“What did she confront you about?”
Jamie suddenly spoke.
“Mommy yelled at Grandma.”
Nathan turned.
Jamie was only three when Claire died.
Nathan had assumed he remembered almost nothing.
“What do you remember?”
Jamie squeezed Nora’s hand.
“Mommy said, ‘Stay away from him.’”
Nathan’s chest tightened.
“Stay away from who?”
Jamie pointed toward him.
“You.”
Nathan couldn’t speak.
Eleanor shook her head.
“Children create memories from stories they hear.”
Nora looked at her.
“No one told Jamie that story.”
Eleanor’s gaze snapped toward Nora.
Something unspoken passed between them.
Nathan noticed.
“What do you know?”
Nora looked at Jamie.
Then at Nathan.
Fear crossed her face.
“Sir…”
“What do you know about Claire?”
Nora swallowed.
“I knew she was scared.”
Nathan felt the floor shift beneath him.
“You knew?”
“She made me promise not to tell you until she had proof.”
Nathan stared at her.
“Proof of what?”
Before Nora could answer, the security officer’s radio crackled.
A voice came through.
“Mr. Harcourt?”
Nathan grabbed the radio.
“Yes?”
“We found something in the downstairs security system.”
“What?”
“Twelve minutes of footage from this afternoon are missing.”
Eleanor closed her eyes.
Nathan slowly looked at her.
“Missing?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Which cameras?”
“The west hallway.”
The hallway outside Eleanor’s private sitting room.
Nathan’s pulse hammered.
“Can it be recovered?”
“We’re checking.”
Nora suddenly stood.
“Maybe you don’t have to.”
Nathan looked at her.
“What?”
She hesitated.
“There’s another camera.”
Eleanor went completely still.
Nora continued.
“Mrs. Harcourt never knew about it.”
Nathan stared at her.
“Where?”
“The pantry.”
“Why?”
Nora took a slow breath.
“Claire installed it.”
Nathan’s heart stopped.
“When?”
“Two months before she died.”
Eleanor whispered, “You’re lying.”
Nora looked directly at her.
“No.”
Then she turned to Nathan.
“Your wife thought someone was tampering with your food.”
Nathan looked down at the notebook.
At his initials.
At Claire’s.
At the words FINAL DINNER.
Then at the black box filled with dark insects.
For two years, he had mourned Claire as the victim of a tragic accident.
For two years, his mother had helped him through the funeral, comforted Jamie, and moved into his home.
May you like
Now Nathan realized Claire had been afraid inside this house long before she died.
And somewhere in the security system was a camera she had hidden because she believed someone was trying to hurt him.
