Chapter 10: The Questions Reached the Estate Before the Rain Stopped
The official car arrived just after noon, while the rain still held the road in a gray blur. It stopped outside the gate instead of entering. I watched it from the library window with the duplicate drive in my pocket and the evidence packet locked behind me.
Two people got out. One carried a thin case. The other held a phone beneath his coat. Neither looked toward the cameras. That was the first thing I noticed. They already knew where the cameras were.
I went through the house without taking the service corridor. Dr. Leon stood beside Allie’s bed in the east-wing room, checking the bandage at her wrist. Lily sat on the floor with the rabbit pressed against her chest. When she saw me, she rose and came close without reaching for my hand.
Allie followed my face. She understood before I touched the lock.
I kept the door shut and used the interior telephone to call the gate. The guard answered, then connected the visitors through the security panel. I did not bring the handset into the room. Allie watched my hand instead.
The questions began with the medical emergency. I gave the time Lily had reached my door, the condition in which I had found Allie, and the marks Dr. Leon had observed. I described the vehicles without guessing at their owners. I identified the receipt found at the gate and the old staff key recovered from the hidden compartment.
When the caller asked about Allie’s employment, I looked at the woman through the camera screen. She had placed her case on the wet stone. Water ran from the edge of her sleeve.
I gave the name of the estate company and confirmed that Allie worked as a housekeeper. I did not say which room she had occupied. I did not say where she was now.
The woman asked whether Allie had arrived with Lily.
I looked through the open inner doorway. Lily had moved to the bed. Her fingers rested on the rabbit’s torn ear. Allie’s hand covered the blanket between them, close enough to touch but not holding.
I answered that the child had been present when I opened the door.
That was not a lie. It was not the whole truth either.
The caller asked about the copied pages naming Allie and Victor. I said the pages were preserved and would be provided through the proper channel. The woman’s expression changed at the name. Her attention shifted from the camera to the phone in the other person’s hand.
A second question followed about whether Victor had ever worked at the estate.
I did not know. I said nothing for several seconds. Silence made the room feel smaller than it was.
Then I gave the answer I could defend: the estate records were being searched, and no conclusion had been reached.
Dr. Leon moved behind me and closed the room’s curtain. He did it slowly, without looking toward the camera. Allie noticed. Her eyes fixed on the fabric.
The visitors remained at the gate for twenty minutes. They requested access to the staff quarters, but I refused until their identities and authority were confirmed. The guard placed the request in the log. The woman showed a card to the camera, but the rain obscured the seal.
I asked for a written request.
She lowered the card.
The car left without coming through the gate.
An hour later, the estate manager brought me a message from the office. Allie’s name appeared in an old payroll file connected to a former contractor. The file held an emergency contact number that was no longer active and a note about a missing staff key from years earlier.
The note had been entered by hand.
Its initials matched no current employee record.
By evening, another report came through the perimeter line. A vehicle had been seen near the west wall, facing the house. It remained there long enough for the rain to soften the tire marks, then disappeared.
I returned to the east-wing room. Allie was awake, her face drained from the effort. She looked toward the locked drawer in my jacket, then toward Lily.
I placed the drawer key on the table where she could see it.
She closed her eyes.
May you like
The official account had made her visible. The old payroll file had made her past visible. Somewhere beyond the wall, someone was still watching for the moment visibility became access.
I turned off the room light and stood beside the door until the house settled into darkness.
