Chapter 2 - The Sound of Leather Shoes
The storage space beneath the roofline extended deeper into the eaves than it initially appeared. Crawling on their hands and knees, the twins dragged Julian into the pitch-black recess where the roof met the floor. The air was thick with ancient dust that burned their nostrils, but neither girl dared to cough.
Julian was trembling violently, his fever rising. Lily pressed a hand over his mouth, feeling the intense heat radiating from his skin.
“Shh,” she breathed into his ear. “Don’t make a sound.”
Outside the hidden room, the footsteps crested the attic stairs.
Through a tiny gap between the door frame and the floorboards, Emma could see the flash of a high-powered halogen flashlight cutting through the attic’s gloom. The light swept over the dust, highlighting the fresh drag marks left by the wardrobe and the twins’ own footprints.
“I know someone is up here,” a voice boomed.
It was a deep, resonant baritone—the kind of voice that commanded boardrooms and altered stock markets with a single sentence. Arthur Vance. The patriarch of Vance Global.
“The front gate was unlocked,” Arthur’s voice echoed, cold and calculating. “And there are footprints in the dust. Whoever you are, this is private property. Trespassing is a felony.”
Emma held her breath. Through the crack, she saw the hem of a dark wool trench coat stop right in front of the massive wardrobe.
Arthur Vance reached out a gloved hand and pushed against the wooden wardrobe. It didn't budge. He then shined his light directly at the brass latch of the secret door.
The latch was broken—snapped in half by the iron poker Lily had used minutes ago.
Inside the dark crawlspace, Julian’s breathing hitched. Lily tightened her grip on his mouth, tears prickling her own eyes from the sheer tension. If Arthur Vance opened that door, three people would vanish from Essex County tonight.
Arthur stepped closer. His leather shoe was inches from the crack where Emma’s eye was pressed. He reached out, his gloved fingers grasping the edge of the narrow door.
Screeech.
The wooden door opened an inch.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
The sudden, piercing chime of a smartphone broke the dead silence of the attic.
Arthur stopped instantly. He pulled back, retrieving a phone from his coat pocket. He answered it on the second ring.
“What is it, Marcus?” Arthur snapped, his voice sharp with irritation.
A muffled, panicked voice came through the speaker. Emma couldn't make out the exact words, but she caught fragments: “...police broadcast... camera on the perimeter... local sheriff asking questions...”
Arthur cursed under his breath. “I told you to clear the security footage from the gate hour ago! If the local deputies track his car here, it ruins everything.”
He paused, listening to his associate.
“Fine,” Arthur said coldly. “I’m coming down now. Ensure the transport is ready at the docks by midnight. Once he’s moved to the container ship, no one will ever find him.”
Arthur turned on his heel. His heavy footsteps retreated quickly down the attic stairs, echoing fainter and fainter until the heavy front door slammed shut once more.
Silence reclaimed Hillrest Manor.
Lily let go of Julian’s mouth. The young billionaire collapsed against the dust, gasping for air.
“He’s... he’s going to move me,” Julian sobbed softly. “He was coming back to see if I was weak enough to be moved...”
“Not tonight he isn't,” Emma said, standing up despite her shaking legs. “Lily, we have to get him out of here now before that associate comes back.”
“How?” Lily asked, looking at Julian. He was over six feet tall and easily weighed a hundred and eighty pounds. He was too weak to walk on his own. “We can't carry him down three flights of stairs without being seen, and we can't just wheel him out the front door!”
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Emma looked around the dim attic, her flashlight beam landing on a rusty iron ring attached to a wooden trapdoor in the corner of the floor.
“The architect,” Emma said, a sudden spark returning to her eyes. “Vernon Reynolds. Remember our assignment? He built laundry chutes and service dumbwaiters directly connecting the attic to the old carriage house in the back!”
