Chapter 5: The Daughter Who Disappeared
By the time we reached the mansion, three police cars were parked along the circular driveway.
Their red and blue lights swept across the windows, illuminating the marble columns and the wet stone path like something out of a nightmare.
My father drove straight toward the entrance.
Detective Harris caught his arm before he could open the door.
"Let me handle this.""
"That's my house.""
"And this is an active investigation. If Renata has filed a false report, we'll establish that. But if Blair is genuinely missing, we need to find her.""
Dad pulled away.
"She was here when we left.""
"Then someone knows where she went.""
We entered together.
Renata stood in the foyer wearing a white blouse and black trousers, her hair perfectly arranged despite the hour. She held a tissue in one hand and a glass of water in the other.
Two officers stood beside her.
The moment she saw Dad, she rushed forward.
"Where is she?""
Dad stared at her.
"Where is who?""
"Blair!""
She struck his chest with the flat of her hand.
"You took her somewhere, didn't you? You frightened her with your accusations, and now she's gone!""
Dad caught her wrist before she could strike him again.
"Be careful.""
Renata jerked free.
"Don't threaten me!""
Detective Harris stepped between them.
"Mrs. Bennett, let's start from the beginning. When did you last see your daughter?""
"Just after eleven. She came into my room crying. She said Daniel had accused her of helping me steal Emily's inheritance.""
I felt my stomach tighten.
"That's not what happened.""
Renata turned on me.
"Of course you'd say that. You've always wanted Blair out of the way.""
"Mom," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady, "you told her to meet you after we left.""
Her eyes widened for half a second.
Then she laughed.
"That's absurd.""
Detective Harris made a note.
"Mrs. Bennett, did you ask your daughter to meet you anywhere tonight?""
"No.""
"Did you give her anything?""
"No.""
"Did she possess any keys or documents belonging to the family?""
Renata's fingers tightened around the glass.
"Why would you ask that?""
"Because your husband has reported that an item of potential evidentiary value is missing.""
She looked at Dad.
"What item?""
He didn't answer.
Her composure began to crack.
"Daniel, what have you told them?""
"Enough.""
Renata stepped closer, lowering her voice.
"You have no idea what you've started.""
Dad looked at her without blinking.
"I think I'm beginning to understand.""
She turned toward the officers.
"My husband has been acting irrationally for months. He's become obsessed with his first wife's death. He sees conspiracies everywhere, and now he's dragging the police into our private affairs.""
Detective Harris remained unmoved.
"Then you won't mind answering a few questions at the station.""
Renata's mouth fell open.
"Are you arresting me?""
"Not at this time. We need to establish your daughter's whereabouts first.""
"She's my child!""
"Then help us find her.""
Renata began to cry.
The performance was convincing enough that one of the younger officers looked uncomfortable.
But I noticed something.
Every time Detective Harris mentioned Blair, Renata looked toward the staircase.
Not the front door.
Not the windows.
The staircase.
As if she were waiting for someone to appear.
I followed her gaze.
The hallway leading to the east wing was dark.
And the door to my mother's hidden room stood open.
I stepped away from the group.
Dad noticed.
"Emily?""
"I need to check something.""
"Stay where I can see you.""
I nodded and moved toward the stairs.
Renata's voice sharpened behind me.
"Don't go in there!""
I stopped.
Everyone turned.
For the first time that night, Renata looked genuinely furious rather than frightened.
"That room is private," she said.
Dad's expression hardened.
"It's my house.""
"You have no right to invade my privacy!""
"Your room is upstairs. That room belonged to my wife.""
Renata swallowed.
I walked toward the east wing.
Behind me, I heard Detective Harris instruct an officer to remain with Renata.
The hidden room was in disarray.
Drawers hung open. Papers littered the floor. Someone had pulled books from the shelves and torn through their bindings.
The framed photograph of my mother was missing.
I moved to the metal cabinet.
The velvet box was still there, empty and overturned.
But something had changed.
A narrow strip of paper had been slipped beneath the cabinet door.
I crouched and pulled it free.
It was a receipt from a private storage facility outside Portland.
The account holder's name had been scratched out, but the date was clear.
Three years earlier.
The same month Renata married my father.
I turned the paper over.
On the back, someone had written an address and a short message.
*Ask Blair what she saw in the basement.*
A floorboard creaked behind me.
I spun around.
Renata stood in the doorway.
Her face had gone completely still.
"Give me that.""
I rose slowly.
"What happened in the basement?""
She stepped inside and closed the door.
"Nothing you need to know.""
"Why did you tell the police Blair was missing?""
"Because she is.""
"Then where is she?""
Renata's eyes flashed.
"How would I know?""
"You were the last person she spoke to before we left.""
"You have no proof.""
I held up the receipt.
"Then explain this.""
Her gaze dropped to the paper.
For a moment, she seemed unable to breathe.
Then she lunged.
I jerked backward, but she caught the edge of the receipt and tore it in half.
"Give it back!""
I grabbed the other half.
She seized my wrist.
"You have no idea what you're playing with!""
"Then tell me!""
Her nails dug into my skin.
"You think your father is some innocent victim? You think your mother was a saint?""
I stared at her.
"What did you do?""
Renata's grip loosened.
Her eyes filled with something that looked almost like grief.
"I tried to save her.""
The words came out so quietly I almost missed them.
"What?""
She stepped backward.
"I said I tried to save her.""
Before I could ask another question, Dad appeared in the doorway.
"Renata.""
She spun around.
"She was asking about things she doesn't understand.""
Dad crossed the room.
"Let go of my daughter.""
Renata looked at her hand as if she'd forgotten she was still gripping my wrist.
She released me.
Dad moved between us.
"Detective Harris wants to speak with you.""
"I have nothing to say.""
"Then you can say it at the station.""
She looked at him for a long moment.
Then she smiled.
It was the same smile she'd worn when she cut my dress.
"You're making a terrible mistake, Daniel.""
He didn't respond.
She walked past him and disappeared down the hallway.
I waited until her footsteps faded.
Then I showed Dad the torn receipt.
He read the message on the back.
His face changed.
"The basement," he whispered.
"What happened down there?""
He looked at me.
"Your mother kept a small office beneath the old garage. She used it when she needed privacy from the business.""
"Why didn't I know about it?""
"Because after she died, I sealed it.""
"Why?""
He hesitated.
"Because that's where I found the first evidence that someone had been inside the house that night.""
My pulse quickened.
"What evidence?""
"Blood on the floor. A broken glass. And a second set of footprints leading toward the old service tunnel.""
"The tunnel?""
He nodded.
"The mansion was built over part of an older estate. There's a narrow passage connecting the basement to the former carriage house. It was bricked up years ago.""
I stared at the receipt.
"Do you think Blair went there?""
"I don't know.""
He took my hand.
"But if she did, she may have found something we missed.""
We hurried downstairs.
The basement door was hidden behind a panel in the pantry. Dad unlocked it and switched on the lights.
A flight of stone steps descended into darkness.
The air smelled of dust, damp earth, and old wood.
At the bottom, a narrow corridor led to a heavy door with a rusted handle.
Dad stopped.
"I haven't opened this in years.""
He pulled a key from his pocket and turned the lock.
The door creaked inward.
Beyond it lay a small office, its walls lined with shelves and filing cabinets. A desk stood in the center, covered by a sheet of white fabric.
I pulled the fabric away.
Dust rose into the air.
On the desk sat a tape recorder, a stack of photographs, and a sealed envelope addressed to my father.
Dad picked up the envelope.
His hands trembled as he opened it.
Inside was a letter.
He read the first line, then stopped.
"What is it?"" I asked.
He handed it to me.
The letter was signed by my mother.
Daniel, if you're reading this, it means I was unable to tell you what I discovered.
Renata did not come into our lives by accident.
She was sent here to find the original trust agreement, and Victor Hale was the man who arranged it.
My fingers shook.
The next line was underlined twice.
But Victor is not the person you should fear most.
I looked at Dad.
He was staring at the signature.
"There's more," I whispered.
I continued reading.
The person who helped him has been living under our roof.
A floorboard creaked in the corridor.
Dad looked up.
"Who's there?""
No answer.
Then a voice came from the darkness.
"Emily?""
Blair stepped into the doorway.
Her hair was tangled, her coat was soaked, and a thin streak of blood ran down her temple.
I rushed toward her.
"Oh my God! What happened?""
She grabbed my shoulders.
"Listen to me. We don't have much time.""
Dad reached for his phone.
"I'm calling an ambulance.""
"No!"" Blair shouted.
She caught his wrist.
"Not yet. Not until you hear what I found.""
Her eyes moved to the letter in my hand.
Then she looked at my father.
"Mom didn't just lie about Aunt—"
She stopped abruptly.
Dad's face drained of color.
"What did you just say?""
Blair began to cry.
"She told me your first wife wasn't the only person who disappeared that night.""
I stared at her.
"My mother?""
Blair shook her head.
"No.""
She swallowed.
"Your mother's sister.""
I felt the room tilt.
My mother had never told me she had a sister.
Dad gripped the desk.
"That's impossible.""
Blair reached into her coat and pulled out a small photograph.
It showed two young women standing beside a river.
They had the same dark hair, the same eyes, and the same unmistakable smile.
One was my mother.
The other was a woman I'd never seen before.
On the back, someone had written a name.
*Elena Vale.*
May you like
And beneath it, in fresh black ink, were four words.
*She is still alive.*
