Chapter 15 - The Guesthouse Door

The old guesthouse stood at the far edge of Arthur's property, beyond the tennis court and overgrown garden.

Nobody had used it in years.

Or so Arthur believed.

The key was missing from the mansion's lockbox.

Police forced the door.

Inside, the air smelled like dust, detergent, and canned soup.

Someone had been living there.

A mattress lay in the upstairs bedroom.

There were children's books on the floor.

A stack of grocery receipts dated back more than a year.

And on the bathroom mirror, written in soap, were four words:

I WANT MY DAD.

Arthur had to leave the room.

Elena stood outside with him.

"If Sophie was here, why didn't anyone see her?"

Arthur stared across his own property.

"Because this place is forty acres. Staff were told the guesthouse had mold. Victoria ordered everyone to stay away."

"And you believed her."

The words were not cruel.

That somehow made them hurt more.

"Yes."

He looked at Elena. "I believed everything."

She shook her head. "Trust isn't a crime. What people do with it can be."

Inside, Collins found a loose floorboard.

Beneath it was a notebook covered in childish handwriting.

Sophie Mercer had kept a diary.

The entries described Victoria bringing food, Graham asking questions about her father's money, and Blake moving her between properties.

Then the writing changed.

One final entry had been written in darker ink.

A HOUSEKEEPER NAMED ROSA SAYS SHE WILL HELP ME TONIGHT.

Collins looked up.

"Rosa."

Elena's face changed.

"My aunt's name was Rosa."

Arthur turned to her.

"Your aunt?"

Elena nodded slowly. "She worked temporary housekeeping jobs. She disappeared fourteen months ago. We thought she went back to Mexico because she stopped answering calls."

Her hands began to shake.

"She worked here once. Victoria hired her through an agency."

Collins flipped to the next page.

There was no next entry.

But tucked inside the back cover was a Polaroid photograph.

Sophie stood beside an older Latina woman.

Elena took one look and covered her mouth.

"That's Rosa."

On the back of the photograph, someone had written an address.

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And beneath it:

IF I DON'T COME BACK, FIND THE BLUE DOOR.