Chương 4
A sound came from above.
The hidden door opened.
I turned quickly.
A woman stood there.
She was probably in her late forties.
Dark hair pulled back.
A black coat.
A face that looked calm in the way people looked calm when they had practiced it.
"Claire Bennett."
She said my name like she was confirming something.
Not introducing herself.
I stepped back.
"Who are you?"
She looked at the photographs on the wall.
Then at me.
"My name is Vivian Ashford."
The last name felt heavier now.
Another Ashford.
Another person connected to the house.
"I thought the family was gone."
"That's what people prefer to believe."
She walked into the room.
I noticed she did not look surprised to see me.
That bothered me.
"How long have you known I was coming?"
Vivian ignored the question.
"Did Thomas tell you about Lydia?"
"He mentioned her."
"What exactly did he say?"
"Why?"
Her expression changed slightly.
A small tightening around her eyes.
It was the first real emotion I saw.
"Because Thomas has spent thirty years deciding which parts of the truth he can live with."
"And you?"
"I spent thirty years deciding which parts of it I could survive."
The answer was too personal.
It made me uncomfortable.
I picked up the photograph of Mara.
"Where is she?"
Vivian looked at it.
"I don't know."
"Everyone keeps saying that."
"Because it's true."
"Then why does everyone act like she is still here?"
Vivian looked at me.
"Because she was."
The room seemed to become smaller.
"What does that mean?"
"Mara stayed in this house for three days."
My fingers tightened around the photograph.
"Three days?"
"Before she disappeared."
"Why didn't anyone tell me?"
"Because she asked us not to."
I laughed once.
It was not because anything was funny.
It was because the alternative was admitting how much that hurt.
"My sister disappeared and you listened to her instead of telling me?"
Vivian looked away.
That was the first time she seemed ashamed.
"She believed you were safer not knowing."
"Safer from what?"
The question hung there.
Nobody answered.
That was becoming a pattern in this house.
Every person had pieces of the truth.
Nobody had enough courage to put them together.
"Why would Mara trust you?"
Vivian walked to the desk and picked up one of the folders.
"She didn't."
"Then why let her stay here?"
"Because she found something I spent years trying to hide."
"What?"
Vivian opened the folder.
Inside was an old document.
A birth certificate.
She did not hand it to me.
She just looked at it.
"Your sister thought the Ashford family destroyed evidence about Lydia Vale."
"Who was Lydia?"
Vivian closed the folder.
"Someone who worked for us."
"Worked for you how?"
"She was my father's assistant."
"Your father was Evelyn Ashford's husband?"
"Yes."
The answer was simple.
Too simple.
"What happened to her?"
Vivian's jaw tightened.
"She died."
"How?"
"Everyone said it was an accident."
"And you don't believe that."
"No."
The word came quietly.
"No, I don't."
A distant sound interrupted us.
A car door closing outside.
Vivian looked toward the ceiling.
Her expression changed immediately.
Not fear.
Calculation.
"Someone else is here."
"Who?"
"You need to leave."
I almost smiled.
That sentence again.
"You all really need new material."
She ignored the comment.
"Claire, listen to me."
Something in her voice made me stop.
"The person who wants you to stop looking is not the person you should be afraid of."
I stared at her.
"That is supposed to make me feel better?"
"No."
She stepped closer.
"It is supposed to make you understand that you have been looking at the wrong enemy."
Before I could ask what she meant, the basement door above us opened.
A man's voice called down.
"Vivian."
She closed her eyes briefly.
Then whispered:
"Too late."
The footsteps moved toward us.
Vivian grabbed the folder from the desk and shoved it into my hands.
"Take this."
I looked down.
"Why?"
"Because Mara wanted you to have it."
My heart stopped for half a second.
"What?"
Vivian looked directly at me.
"The reason she left that note was not because she wanted you to stop."
The footsteps reached the bottom of the stairs.
"It was because she knew someone else would find you first."
The basement door opened.
Officer Reyes stood there.
His face changed when he saw me.
Not surprise.
Not anger.
Fear.
"Claire."
I stepped back.
"What are you doing here?"
Reyes looked at Vivian.
Then at the folder in my hands.
And I understood something from the way all three of us looked at each other.
Everyone in this house had been waiting for this moment.
They just hadn't been waiting for the same reason.
"Claire," Reyes said again.
This time my name sounded like a warning.
I looked at him standing in the basement doorway and tried to match the man in front of me with the person who had shown up at my apartment that morning carrying Mara's handwriting in an evidence bag.
The careful officer.
The patient voice.
The person who acted like he was trying to protect me.
None of it fit with the fact that he was standing in a hidden room beneath the Ashford mansion while Vivian Ashford handed me documents she clearly did not want him to see.
"What are you doing here?" I asked again.
Reyes looked at Vivian before answering.
That was enough.
Whatever relationship existed between them, it was not one built on trust.
"I could ask you the same thing."
"You did."
"And you ignored me."
"I learned that from my sister."
His expression tightened.
For a second, I thought he might get angry.
Instead, he looked tired.
Not physically tired.
The kind of tired that comes from carrying something too long and realizing you might finally have to put it down.
"Claire, give me the folder."
I held it closer.
"No."
May you like
"That folder could put you in danger."
"So could everyone in this room."
