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Chapter 3 - The Secret in the Garden

Three days later, the autumn wind whipped through the sprawling gardens of the Oyster Bay estate, stripping the last golden leaves from the maples.

Rachel Carter knelt near the greenhouse, weeding a stubborn patch of winter ivy. Her fingers, reddened by the cold and constant contact with cleaning chemicals, moved methodically through the dark soil.

She loved the estate for its security, but hated it for its walls. The high iron gates and the armed guards at the perimeter fence made the place feel less like a home and more like a gilded cage. But safety was expensive, and as a single mother working to pay off her brother’s medical debt, she couldn't afford to be picky.

“Mama! Look!”

Rachel looked up. Lily was running across the lawn, holding a smooth, flat stone she had found near the pond. Behind her, trotting at a respectful distance, was one of Dominic’s security guards, keeping a watchful eye.

“Careful, sweetie, don't run on the wet grass,” Rachel called out, wiping her brow with the back of her dirty glove.

Lily skidded to a halt in front of her, panting slightly, her cheeks flushed pink from the wind. “Can we show Mr. Dominic my stone? It looks like a turtle shell!”

Rachel smiled softly, pushing a stray lock of brown hair out of her daughter’s eyes. “Mr. Dominic is very busy today, Lily. He has important meetings.”

“He’s not busy,” a deep, gravelly voice said from behind them.

Rachel started, dropping her trowel. She scrambled to her feet and turned around.

Dominic stood a few paces away. He wore a dark wool overcoat, his silver-streaked hair catching the autumn sun. His dark eyes weren't fixed on Rachel, but down at Lily, who looked up at him with total, fearless innocence.

“Mr. Mercer,” Rachel stammered, smoothing her apron. “I’m sorry. She wasn't supposed to wander near the main terrace—'”

“She’s fine, Rachel,” Dominic said. He crouched down—a motion that surprised Rachel, given the intimidating aura he usually projected.

Lily didn't hesitate. She marched right up to him, held out the flat gray stone, and used her small hands to sign a clumsy, modified version of Look that she had learned from her library books.

Dominic looked at the stone. Then he looked at Lily’s hands.

Slowly, deliberately, he raised his own large, scarred hands and signed back: Beautiful.

Lily’s eyes widened with pure delight. She giggled, clapping her hands together.

Dominic stood up, looking at Rachel. There was an intense, probing quality in his dark gaze that made Rachel’s breath catch in her throat.

“You taught her those signs,” Dominic stated. It wasn't a question.

“Yes, sir,” Rachel said nervously, clutching her gardening gloves. “I... I thought it would be polite. Since you can't hear us when we speak, I wanted her to know how to say hello properly. I hope it wasn't an overstep.”

“An overstep?” Dominic repeated softly. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the brass button with the crossed hammers and the letters CRD. He held it out on his open palm between them. “Do you know what this is, Rachel?”

Rachel leaned in, squinting at the small metal disc. “No, sir. I’ve never seen it before.”

“Lily found it on the floor of the library right after Dr. Hale left on Friday,” Dominic said, his eyes never leaving Rachel’s face. “Do you or anyone on the cleaning staff use equipment with these markings?”

Rachel shook her head immediately. “No, Mr. Mercer. We only use standard commercial supplies from the agency. I clean the library every Thursday evening, and I’ve never seen anything like that.”

Dominic nodded slowly. He closed his fist around the button.

“Rachel,” Dominic said, his voice dropping an octave, carrying a weight that sent a shiver down her spine. “Keep your doors locked at night. Both of you.”

Rachel froze. “Mr. Mercer... is something wrong?”

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“Everything is wrong,” Dominic replied quietly. “Just do as I say.”

Before Rachel could ask another question, Dominic turned and walked away toward the stables, his long stride eating up the distance, leaving Rachel standing in the cold wind with a cold knot of dread tightening in her stomach.

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