Chapter 2 - THE PHOTOGRAPH BEHIND THE WALL “YOUR MOTHER WASN’T A MAID. SHE WAS A WITNESS.”
“YOUR MOTHER WASN’T A MAID. SHE WAS A WITNESS.”
Margaret’s confession stopped Emily halfway up the staircase. Richard had returned to the dining room after one of his business partners demanded an explanation for the disturbance. Margaret used those precious minutes to lead Emily toward the upstairs library, but every step seemed to carry them deeper into something the Hale family had buried for years.
Margaret locked the library door behind them. “Your mother’s name was Anna Carter,” she said. “She worked here temporarily, but she discovered financial records connecting my late husband to a network of fraudulent charities.” Emily stared at her. “Then why didn’t she go to the police?” Margaret’s expression filled with shame. “She tried.”
They moved toward an enormous landscape painting above the fireplace. Margaret helped Emily lift it from the wall. Behind it was a shallow compartment containing a yellowed photograph. Emily picked it up. Her mother stood in this very mansion eighteen years earlier. Beside her was a younger Margaret—and a man Emily had seen downstairs that evening.
It was Senator Daniel Mercer, one of Richard’s most influential dinner guests. Emily’s pulse accelerated. On the back of the photograph, her mother had written a date and four words: Daniel knows where it is. “Where what is?” Emily asked. Margaret shook her head. “I never knew.”
Suddenly someone tried the library door. “Mother?” Richard called from the hallway. Margaret’s eyes widened. Emily slipped the photograph beneath her blouse. Richard struck the door harder. “Open it.” Margaret whispered, “There’s another exit behind the bookcase.” Emily stared at her. “You expect me to believe that?” “No,” Margaret replied. “I expect you to survive.”
The bookcase opened into a narrow service corridor built decades earlier. Emily slipped inside as Richard forced the library door open. Through the gap, she heard him demanding to know where she had gone. Then came a sound she never expected: Margaret slapped her own son. “You have frightened that girl enough.”
Emily hurried through the darkness until the corridor ended behind the mansion’s wine cellar. She stepped out—and found Daniel Mercer waiting for her. The senator wasn’t smiling anymore. “Your mother had the same eyes,” he said quietly. Emily backed toward the wall. “Did you know her?” Daniel nodded.
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“I loved her.”
Emily’s breath caught. Daniel reached into his jacket, slowly enough not to frighten her, and removed an old photograph. It showed Anna holding a newborn baby. Daniel stood beside her. On the back was a handwritten name: Emily Mercer.
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