Chapter 5 - The Voice on the Tape
The iron doors of the carriage house rattled violent as someone threw their body weight against them from the outside.
"Lila! Open this door!" Evan shouted, pounding his fists against the thick oak wood. "I know you're in there! Stop this madness!"
Lila didn't answer. She scrambled into the back seat of the covered antique car, pulling the canvas tarp down over herself to hide her flashlight beam.
She pulled out the cassette tape. In the corner of the carriage house, sitting on an old workbench beneath a dust sheet, was her grandfather’s old portable tape player—a bulky, grey plastic boombox that still worked on D-batteries.
Lila crawled out from the car, keeping low to the dirt floor, and slid beneath the workbench.
She found the tape player, popped open the deck, and inserted the cassette marked For Eleanor.
She pressed PLAY.
The tape hissed with white noise for three agonizing seconds. Then, a soft, breathy voice filled the dark space under the workbench.
Eleanor... if you are listening to this, it means I was right. It means I didn't make it.
Lila choked back a sob, pressing her wet sleeve against her mouth. It was her mother’s voice. So clear, so close, it felt as though Naomi was sitting right beside her in the dark.
They think I'm confused, Eleanor. Evan has been putting something in my evening tea. Claire brings it every night. My hands are shaking so badly I can barely hold a pen anymore. My heart keeps racing, then stopping...
On the tape, Naomi paused, taking a long, ragged breath.
I caught them in the study tonight. They were talking about the trust fund. They think I'm going to leave everything to Evan, but I changed my will last week with my attorney in Boston. Everything goes into an irrevocable trust for Lila, managed solely by you, Eleanor. They don't know yet. But if they find out... I don't think they'll wait for the poison to finish the job.
Please, Eleanor. Protect my daughter. Don't let Claire take her. Don't let Evan—
The tape suddenly cut out into violent static.
Then, another voice came through the speaker. Clear. Loud. Right next to the microphone.
Whatever happens, Naomi, I promise you... I'll love Lila like she's my own daughter.
A quiet groan followed. The heavy, thudding sound of something falling down wooden stairs.
Then Claire’s voice again, cold and completely calm: It's done, Evan. Call the ambulance. Tell them she got dizzy again.
Lila sat frozen under the workbench, tears streaming silently down her face. The truth was no longer a half-remembered nightmare or a ghostly shadow on the landing. It was recorded in magnetic tape. It was real.
Outside, the rattling on the carriage house doors stopped.
For a moment, there was only the sound of the rain heavy on the tin roof.
Then came the sharp, metallic crunch of an iron crowbar snapping the lock.
The carriage house doors swung wide open with a deafening screech, letting in the blinding headlights of Evan’s SUV.
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Evan stood in the doorway, drenched in rain, holding a heavy tire iron. Behind him, Claire stood under a wide black umbrella, her white silk dress ruined with mud, her face completely void of any human warmth.
"Found you," Claire said softly.
