Chapter 5 - THE WOMAN IN THE LOCKED ROOM
The Miller estate sat behind iron gates on twelve acres of manicured land.
I arrived just after noon, following Detective Ward's unmarked vehicle. Two county cruisers blocked the main drive, and a medical examiner's van stood near the guesthouse.
Daniel Mercer had been found in a locked study.
The official explanation was suicide.
The scene suggested otherwise.
His hands were bound behind his back, and a broken glass lay beside the desk. There was no weapon in the room, and the study door had been secured from the outside.
Ward stared at the body through the open doorway.
"Someone wanted this to look like he killed himself," he said.
"Who found him?"
"Catherine."
"Convenient."
"Very."
I examined the hallway.
A security camera hung above the study entrance. Its indicator light was off.
"Where's the recording?"
"Missing."
I turned to Ward.
"How many cameras cover this house?"
"Twenty-three."
"And how many were working last night?"
He didn't answer.
A voice came from behind us.
"Captain Sinclair."
Catherine stood at the end of the corridor, wearing a cream-colored suit. Her expression was composed, but her fingers were clenched around a handkerchief.
"You have no authority to be here," she said.
"I'm here because a man connected to my wife's attack was found dead on your property."
"Daniel was a family friend."
"Was he also the man who accessed my deployment itinerary?"
Her face changed.
Ward noticed.
So did I.
Catherine recovered quickly.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Then you won't mind explaining why your company paid a shell corporation connected to my father's estate."
For the first time, she looked genuinely frightened.
Then Amanda appeared behind her.
"Mother, don't speak to him."
I turned toward Amanda.
"Did you hold my wife down?"
Her face flushed.
"Rosalie has always been unstable."
"That wasn't my question."
"She attacked us."
"With twenty-seven fractures?"
Amanda's mouth tightened.
Catherine stepped between us.
"This conversation is over."
"No," I said. "It's just beginning."
I took out my phone and photographed the disabled security camera.
Ward moved beside me.
"Captain, let's go."
Catherine smiled faintly.
"Wise decision, Detective."
Ward ignored her.
We left the estate without another word.
In the car, Ward handed me a sealed evidence envelope.
"Mercer had this in his pocket."
Inside was a brass key and a handwritten address.
The address belonged to a building on the outskirts of town, a former Miller Aerospace research facility that had been shut down five years earlier.
At the bottom of the note were four words.
Find the original recording.
We drove there immediately.
The facility was surrounded by chain-link fencing and overgrown weeds. A rusted sign hung above the entrance.
The main doors were locked, but a side entrance stood slightly open.
Inside, dust covered the floors.
We searched the ground level before finding a staircase leading to a basement archive.
The brass key opened a cabinet containing old security drives, financial records, and boxes of personnel files.
Ward began searching the drives.
I examined the documents.
One folder contained a list of payments made to a private security firm during the month of Rosalie's attack. Another held copies of internal messages between Catherine and Victor Hale.
The messages were brief.
CATHERINE: She has the files.
HALE: Then recover them.
CATHERINE: I want the originals.
HALE: And the husband?
CATHERINE: He isn't supposed to be home.
I read the exchange twice.
There was no explicit order to kill Rosalie.
But there was no concern for what might happen to her, either.
A metallic sound echoed from the corridor.
Ward raised a hand.
"Stay here."
He moved toward the doorway.
A second later, a gunshot rang through the basement.
I ran.
Ward was on the floor, clutching his shoulder. A man in a dark jacket disappeared up the stairs.
I reached Ward and pressed a cloth against the wound.
"Stay with me."
He grimaced.
"I knew this was a bad idea."
"Save your breath."
He grabbed my wrist.
"The drive."
"What about it?"
"Don't let them take it."
I looked toward the cabinet.
The security drive was gone.
Footsteps thundered overhead.
I helped Ward to his feet and guided him toward the side exit. Outside, I called emergency services and stayed until the ambulance arrived.
Then I drove back to the hospital.
Rosalie's condition had improved enough for Dr. Higgins to reduce some of her sedation. She remained unable to speak clearly, but her eyes were open.
I sat beside her bed.
"Rosalie, I found the records."
Her fingers tightened around mine.
"I know you tried to tell me something. I need you to help me understand."
Her lips moved.
I leaned closer.
"Take your time."
She swallowed with difficulty.
"Blue... room."
"I found it."
Her eyes widened.
"Not... that..."
She tried to lift her hand, but the splint prevented it.
I took a notepad from the bedside table and placed it where she could see.
"Can you write?"
Her fingers shook as she guided the pen across the paper.
The letters were uneven.
THE ROOM UNDER THE ROOM.
I stared at the words.
"What room?"
She closed her eyes, exhausted.
Then she opened them again.
"Mother..."
I leaned forward.
"Your mother?"
Rosalie's breathing quickened.
"No," she whispered. "My... real..."
Her eyes rolled back.
The monitor began to alarm.
Dr. Higgins rushed into the room and ordered me outside.
I stood in the corridor, staring at the words on the notepad.
My real mother.
Catherine had always been Rosalie's mother.
Everyone knew it.
Everyone except, apparently, Rosalie.
Then a nurse emerged from the room carrying a sealed medical envelope.
"Captain Sinclair?"
"Yes?"
"This was delivered to the hospital records department. It's addressed to you."
I opened it.
Inside was a birth certificate.
The mother's name was not Catherine Miller.
It was Eleanor Sinclair.
My father's wife.
My mother.
May you like
At the bottom, beside Rosalie's name, was a handwritten note.
She is your sister.
