Chapter 4 - The Room Behind The Nursery
Alexander was already reaching for his coat when Evelyn blocked the library door.
"No."
He stopped.
"Move."
"You vanished for two years because you walked into something alone. You're not doing it again."
"The fire is destroying evidence."
"Then the police can preserve what's left."
"They missed the evidence the first time."
Evelyn did not move.
For a moment, anger flashed across his face.
Then it collapsed into exhaustion.
He looked older than he had when he stepped through the snow.
"I don't know how to come back slowly," he said.
Evelyn's throat tightened.
"Then learn."
Detective Voss called again ten minutes later.
The hangar fire had been contained.
No one was injured.
A steel evidence cabinet containing the original maintenance logs had been cut open before the fire began.
The logs were gone.
That changed Alexander's mind.
Someone was not cleaning up old evidence.
Someone was reacting to his return in real time.
The danger was active.
The children were moved into Mrs. Bell's rooms at the rear of the second floor, where the windows had old iron latches and only one corridor entrance.
Two officers remained at the manor.
The rest of the household staff were told to go home.
At 1:14 in the morning, Hawthorne Manor became quiet enough for Evelyn to hear snow tapping the windows.
She should have been exhausted.
Instead, every nerve in her body felt awake.
Alexander stood over the metal box from Clara's hidden compartment.
"Nursery 2B," he said, turning the brass tag between his fingers.
Evelyn knew the nursery wing.
Everyone did.
Hawthorne children had slept there for nearly a century.
There was Nursery 1A, 1B, and the large corner room everyone simply called the blue nursery.
There was no 2B.
Mrs. Bell frowned when Evelyn showed her the tag.
"There used to be."
Alexander looked at her.
"Used to be?"
"Before the renovation. Your mother had the second service room closed after the pipes burst."
"Where?"
Mrs. Bell pointed toward the far end of the upper hall.
"Behind the blue nursery."
Daniel was awake when they passed his door.
Evelyn could see his shadow under the lamp.
She did not stop.
The blue nursery had not been used in years.
Dust coated the painted rocking horse.
A mobile of wooden stars hung crooked over an empty crib.
Faded clouds floated across the wallpaper.
Alexander ran his hand along the wall.
"Where was the service door?"
Mrs. Bell pointed to a built-in wardrobe.
"Behind that, before they made it permanent."
Nothing in Hawthorne Manor was permanent.
That lesson was becoming obvious.
Alexander removed the bottom drawer.
Behind it, concealed beneath newer paneling, sat an old brass lock.
The key turned.
A section of the wardrobe swung inward.
Cold air breathed from the darkness.
Evelyn switched on her phone flashlight.
The room beyond was narrow and windowless.
It smelled of dust, dry wood, and something faintly medicinal.
Iodine.
Alexander smelled it too.
His shoulders stiffened.
"The hospital?" Evelyn whispered.
"No."
He stepped inside.
"The man who came to my room before they moved me used iodine on his hands. Too much. Every time."
At the back of the service room stood a metal shelf.
On it were old baby monitors, telephone splitters, miniature cassette decks, and labeled boxes.
D-8.
D-7.
R-5.
Evelyn stared at the labels.
"Daniel. Rose."
Alexander picked up the D-8 box.
Inside were audio cassettes.
Dates from the year Daniel was born.
Someone had recorded the nursery.
Not for a night.
For months.
Mrs. Bell whispered a prayer.
Evelyn opened another box.
Receipts.
Fairfax Reproductive Diagnostics.
A private genetics laboratory.
A shipping invoice for biological samples.
One line was circled in black ink.
PATIENT: D.H.
REQUESTING PARTY: N. HAWTHORNE.
Alexander took the paper from her.
His fingers began to shake.
"Daniel Hawthorne."
A sound came from the hall.
Soft.
A floorboard settling.
Alexander turned off Evelyn's phone light.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Mrs. Bell inhaled sharply.
Alexander pressed one finger to his lips.
Footsteps.
One.
Two.
Slow.
The wardrobe door moved.
A narrow line of hall light appeared.
Someone on the other side was opening it.
Alexander shifted beside the frame.
The door widened.
A hand entered first.
Black glove.
Then a shoulder.
Alexander lunged.
The impact slammed both men into the nursery wall.
Evelyn heard a grunt, the crash of wood, Mrs. Bell shouting.
The intruder drove an elbow backward and broke free.
For half a second, Evelyn saw a face beneath a dark knit cap.
Male.
Older.
A scar along the jaw.
Then he hurled something onto the floor.
Glass shattered.
Flame rolled across the carpet.
"Out!" Alexander shouted.
Smoke climbed instantly.
Mrs. Bell stumbled toward the hall.
Evelyn grabbed the D-8 cassette box.
Alexander seized the receipts and shoved them inside his coat.
The fire reached the wardrobe.
As they ran, Evelyn heard a small mechanical click behind them.
A recorder had turned on when it fell.
Through the smoke came Clara's voice.
"Nathan, stop."
Alexander froze.
Evelyn grabbed his arm.
"Move!"
But the tape kept playing.
A man's voice answered.
Nathan's.
"You wanted the truth. Now you have it."
Clara was crying.
"Daniel is not Alexander's son."
The fire snapped across the carpet.
Then Clara said the sentence that made Evelyn's knees weaken.
"He's yours, Nathan. Daniel is your son."
Alexander stared into the flames.
May you like
And from the hall behind them, Daniel whispered,
"What did she say?"
