Chapter 2 - The Walls Had Ears

The handle moved half an inch.

Alejandro crossed the room before the door opened fully.

Benedict Shaw stood on the other side.

He was fifty-one, silver-haired, immaculate, and wearing polished black dress shoes.

Click shoes.

He looked from Alejandro to the broken camera, then to Valeria and Mateo on the sofa.

“Sir,” Shaw said, “security told me the house was being locked down.”

Alejandro did not lower his hand from inside his jacket.

“Why are you here?”

“You called for me.”

“I did not.”

Shaw glanced toward the hallway.

“Mr. Ellis said you wanted me in the foyer.”

Alejandro’s eyes narrowed.

“No one called you.”

A tiny pause.

Then Shaw smiled.

“Then I misunderstood.”

Mateo buried his face in Valeria’s shoulder.

Shaw noticed.

“Is the boy all right?”

Valeria felt Mateo’s fingers tighten around her sleeve.

Alejandro stepped into the doorway.

“He is tired.”

“I can send Dr. Cole.”

“No.”

Shaw looked at him.

“No?”

“No doctor. No staff. No one comes near Mateo until I say otherwise.”

“That seems extreme.”

“So does someone moving through a sealed wing of my house.”

For the first time, Shaw’s expression shifted.

Only slightly.

“North wing?”

Alejandro watched him.

“I didn’t say north wing.”

Silence.

Shaw’s eyes moved to Valeria.

Then to the pocket of her apron.

She suddenly understood why Alejandro had not announced the key.

Shaw recovered.

“Ashcroft has three sealed service corridors. I assumed.”

“You assumed wrong.”

“I’m happy to help.”

“I know.”

The words sounded like a threat.

Alejandro closed the door in Shaw’s face and locked it.

Mateo exhaled.

Valeria looked at Alejandro.

“You called no one?”

“I told a guard to call Shaw.”

“That is still calling Shaw.”

“The guard never transmitted the message.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I changed my mind before we left the foyer. I sent him a text ordering him not to call.”

Valeria stared at him.

“So Shaw arrived because someone heard the original instruction?”

“Or because he was already watching.”

Alejandro looked at the smashed camera.

Mateo whispered, “Wall eyes.”

Valeria rubbed his back.

“Are there cameras in the north wing?”

Alejandro nodded once.

“Old ones. They should be disconnected.”

“Should be?”

“I have not entered that corridor in two years.”

“Why?”

He looked at her as if the answer were obvious.

“My wife died.”

“That tells me why you didn’t want to enter. It doesn’t tell me why you never checked.”

Alejandro’s jaw tightened.

“Because I trusted the people who sealed it.”

“Who?”

“Shaw supervised the work.”

Mateo began to cry without making sound.

Valeria looked down.

“Mateo, did Mr. Shaw take you upstairs?”

The boy did not answer.

Alejandro took out his phone.

“No signal.”

Valeria checked hers.

Nothing.

“Is that normal?”

“No.”

Alejandro crossed to a landline beside the bookcase.

Dead.

His face hardened.

“They cut internal communications.”

Valeria stood with Mateo in her arms.

“Then we should leave this room.”

“The hall may be watched.”

“So is this room.”

“The camera is dead.”

“That doesn’t mean the room is safe.”

Alejandro looked around.

Valeria noticed a faint draft from behind the blue silk curtains.

“Window?”

“Third-floor drop on that side.”

“We’re on the ground floor.”

“No. The terrain falls away behind the house.”

She pulled the curtain back.

A narrow window overlooked a steep stone terrace.

Not useful.

Mateo lifted his head.

“Kitchen door.”

Alejandro looked at him.

“What kitchen door?”

Mateo pointed toward the fireplace.

Valeria frowned.

“There’s no door.”

The boy squirmed down from her arms.

He crossed to a carved wooden panel beside the fireplace and pressed a flower in the molding.

Nothing happened.

He pressed again.

A thin seam appeared.

Alejandro stared.

“That passage was bricked up before I bought the house.”

Mateo looked at Valeria.

“Not bricked.”

She pulled the panel.

It opened into darkness.

Alejandro swore softly.

“Who showed you this?”

“Mommy.”

Valeria exchanged a look with him.

“When?”

Mateo whispered, “When I found her.”

Alejandro crouched.

“You found your mother through this passage?”

A nod.

“Where?”

“Up.”

“Room Four?”

Another nod.

“Who was with her?”

Mateo shook his head.

“White coat.”

“Dr. Cole?”

The boy covered his ears.

Alejandro stopped questioning him.

Valeria said, “We can use the passage.”

“To where?”

“Mateo said kitchen.”

“If it still connects.”

“We need a place without cameras.”

Alejandro drew a compact handgun from inside his jacket.

Valeria stared at it.

“No.”

His eyes sharpened.

“No?”

“You are not walking into a dark passage beside a four-year-old with a loaded gun in your hand.”

“I am not leaving it.”

“Then keep it holstered.”

“This is not a debate.”

“Mateo is already afraid.”

The boy looked at the gun.

Alejandro saw it.

His expression shifted.

He put the weapon back inside his jacket.

“Fine.”

Valeria lifted Mateo again.

Alejandro entered first.

The passage smelled of dust, old plaster, and damp stone.

He turned on his phone flashlight.

A narrow staircase rose to the left.

Another corridor sloped downward.

Mateo pointed down.

“Kitchen.”

They followed it.

After thirty yards, voices drifted through the wall.

Valeria stopped.

Shaw.

“…not supposed to have the key.”

Another voice answered.

Nathan Cole.

“Then the boy disobeyed her.”

Shaw’s tone was cold.

“The boy is four.”

“He has always understood more than Alejandro thinks.”

Valeria felt Mateo tremble.

Alejandro raised one finger for silence.

Cole continued.

“If Isabella made contact, we move her tonight.”

Alejandro’s face became stone.

Shaw said, “You said the dosage kept her confused.”

“It does.”

“Then how did she give the child a key?”

“I don’t know.”

“Find out.”

“And if Alejandro opens the room?”

“He won’t.”

“You sound certain.”

“I have spent twelve years making certain Alejandro sees only the threats I want him to see.”

Valeria glanced at him.

His eyes had gone frighteningly calm.

Cole spoke again.

“What about the maid?”

“Temporary problem.”

Mateo whimpered.

The voices stopped.

Footsteps approached.

Alejandro grabbed Valeria’s wrist and pulled her into a recess.

A hidden door opened six feet away.

Cole stepped into the passage.

He wore a white medical coat despite being inside a private residence.

Shaw followed.

Both men turned toward the upward staircase.

Valeria held Mateo’s face against her shoulder.

The old key pressed into her apron pocket.

Alejandro waited until the men were gone.

Then he leaned close to Valeria.

“You heard it.”

“Yes.”

“My wife is alive.”

“Yes.”

“In this house.”

“Yes.”

He closed his eyes once.

When he opened them, anger had replaced shock.

“I will kill both of them.”

Valeria grabbed his sleeve.

“No.”

His stare snapped to her.

“They kept my wife prisoner.”

“And if you shoot them before you know where they are taking her, you may lose her.”

Alejandro did not answer.

“They said they might move her tonight,” Valeria continued. “That means we have hours, maybe less. If they realize we heard them, they move faster.”

“You want me to pretend?”

“I want you to think.”

“I have been thinking for two years.”

“No. You have been grieving for two years.”

The words landed hard.

Mateo looked between them.

Valeria lowered her voice.

“Your son found the truth before you did because no one believed him.”

Alejandro’s mouth tightened.

“That ends now.”

They continued toward the kitchen.

The passage opened behind a pantry shelf.

Valeria checked first.

The kitchen was empty.

Alejandro crossed to a service phone.

Dead.

He looked through the glass doors to the rear courtyard.

Two guards stood outside.

“Mine or Shaw’s?” Valeria asked.

“Everyone here was hired through Shaw.”

“That answers nothing.”

“It answers too much.”

Mateo tugged Valeria’s collar.

“Mrs. Finch.”

“Who is Mrs. Finch?”

“Cook.”

Valeria knew the name.

Margaret Finch had worked at Ashcroft House for nearly twenty years, long before Alejandro purchased it.

“Can we trust her?” Valeria asked.

Alejandro hesitated.

“I don’t know.”

“That is becoming a problem.”

He ignored the remark.

“Finch lives in the old gate cottage.”

“Does she have a phone?”

“Yes.”

“Then we reach her without crossing the courtyard.”

“How?”

Mateo pointed toward the pantry.

“Tunnels.”

Alejandro stared at his son.

“How many passages have you been using?”

Mateo looked ashamed.

Valeria knelt.

“You are not in trouble.”

“I hide.”

“From whom?”

The child whispered, “Doctor.”

Alejandro crouched beside him.

This time his voice was gentle.

“Does Dr. Cole hurt you?”

Mateo shook his head.

“What does he do?”

“Medicine.”

“What medicine?”

“Sleep.”

Alejandro went rigid.

“He gives you medicine to make you sleep?”

Mateo nodded.

“Juice.”

Valeria’s stomach turned.

“How often?”

“When Daddy goes.”

Alejandro looked sick.

“I travel every month.”

Mateo nodded again.

Alejandro pressed a hand against the floor as if he needed it for balance.

Valeria said, “You did not know.”

“I should have.”

“That question can come later.”

“No. It comes now.”

“Later,” she repeated. “Right now we need Isabella alive and Mateo safe.”

He looked at her.

Then he nodded.

They crossed through the pantry into a second hidden corridor that sloped toward the old gatehouse.

Halfway there, Mateo suddenly whispered, “Stop.”

Valeria stopped.

“What is it?”

He pointed to the stone floor.

A thin red beam crossed the passage at ankle height.

Alejandro saw it.

“Alarm.”

Valeria’s heart kicked.

“Was that there before?”

Mateo shook his head.

Alejandro looked back toward the kitchen.

“They know we’re using the passages.”

A phone began ringing somewhere ahead.

Not a modern ringtone.

An old landline bell.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Mateo whispered, “Mrs. Finch.”

Alejandro moved toward it.

Valeria caught his arm.

“What if they want us to answer?”

He stared at the red beam.

The ringing stopped.

Then a woman’s voice came faintly through the wall.

“Alejandro?”

He froze.

It was not Mrs. Finch.

Mateo began sobbing.

“Mommy.”

Alejandro turned toward the sound as though the entire house had disappeared around him.

“Isabella?”

The voice came again, weaker this time.

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“Alejandro, don’t open Room Four.”

Then the line went dead.