The Carriage House

The gate to the Carriage House service road was unlocked, the heavy iron latch hanging loose like a broken jaw. Iris saw it from the passenger seat of the rental car as Marcus slowed down.

"He knows," Marcus said, scanning the dark tree line. "He wouldn't leave it open unless he wanted us to come in."

"He doesn't know," Iris said, though her stomach was a knot of dread. "Sabrina left it open. For us."

"Or she's leading us into a trap. Again."

Iris shook her head. "She left the message. She told us Elias was alive."

Marcus turned off the headlights. "We go on foot. If there's security, they'll be watching the road."

They parked the car in a small turnout a quarter-mile back, hidden by overgrown rhododendrons. The walk was a nightmare. Iris’s ankle was a swollen, throbbing mess, every step sending shockwaves of pain up her leg. She leaned heavily on Marcus, her breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps.

The woods were silent, the rain having finally ceased, leaving behind a dripping, heavy quiet.

They reached the edge of the Carriage House lawn. The building was dark, a black silhouette against the lighter gray of the sky.

"Where are the guards?" Marcus whispered. "Julian hired private security. They should be patrolling."

"Maybe they're inside," Iris said. "Or maybe they're gone. If Julian thinks he's won..."

She crept toward the back door—the one Sabrina had said she would leave open.

It was closed.

Iris tried the handle. Locked.

"Sabrina," she whispered.

No answer.

Marcus moved to the window. He peered inside, shielding his eyes. "I see a light. Down the hall."

He tried the window. Also locked.

Iris looked at the second floor. The window where she had seen Elias. It was dark now.

"We have to break in," she said.

"If we break the glass, the alarm goes off," Marcus said. "And if the guards are inside..."

Iris looked at the lock on the back door. It was a standard deadbolt.

She remembered the bobby pin she had used on the bathroom door in the main house, weeks ago. That had been a simple privacy lock. This was security grade.

But she had something else.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the set of keys she had taken from the housekeeper's coat in the mudroom, right before the fire. She hadn't known what they were for. She had just grabbed them on instinct.

She tried the first key. Too small.

The second. Too square.

The third. A brass key with a piece of red tape on the head.

She slid it into the lock. It fit.

She turned it.

*Click.*

The door swung open.

The hallway was empty. The air was stale, smelling of dust and that same expensive cigar smoke she had smelled before.

They moved into the kitchen. Empty.

The living room. Empty.

"Where is everyone?" Marcus whispered. "Where's Sabrina?"

They reached the stairs. The light Marcus had seen was coming from the landing above. A single sconce, buzzing faintly.

Iris started up the stairs, Marcus right behind her. The wood creaked under their weight, a sound like a gunshot in the silence.

They reached the top. The bedroom door was open.

The room was empty. The bed was made. The chair was pushed in. It looked like a hotel room, sanitized and devoid of life.

"They moved him," Marcus said. "We're too late."

Iris walked into the room. She looked at the floor.

There were scuff marks on the rug. Drag marks.

And near the closet, a small, white object.

An earring.

A pearl stud.

Sabrina's.

Iris picked it up. "She was here. There was a struggle."

"We need to leave," Marcus said. "This is a crime scene."

"Not yet," Iris said.

She looked at the ceiling.

The Carriage House had a loft. An old hayloft from when it was a stable, converted into storage.

The access panel was in the hallway ceiling.

But there was no ladder.

"Boost me," she said to Marcus.

He laced his fingers together. Iris stepped into his hands, ignoring the pain in her ankle. He lifted her up.

She pushed on the panel. It didn't move.

She pushed harder.

It was heavy. Barred from the other side.

"It's blocked," she whispered.

"Let me down."

She dropped to the floor. She looked at the wall. There was a vent near the floorboards.

She knelt down and peered through the slats.

It was dark inside the wall cavity. But she could hear something.

Breathing.

Rapid, terrified breathing.

"Elias?" she whispered.

The breathing stopped.

"Elias, it's Iris. I'm here."

A voice came from the vent, small and trembling.

"Don't come up," he whispered. "He's waiting."

"Who?"

"The man with the trident."

The security guard. The one from the hospital.

He wasn't gone. He was up there.

"Where is Sabrina?" Iris asked.

"He has her," Elias said. "In the loft. He has a gun."

Iris looked at Marcus. He had heard it too.

The living room was normal. But the stairs to the loft were barred.