Face in the Window

The next morning, Iris stood in the parking lot of St. Jude’s, staring up at the monolithic brick building. The rain had finally stopped, leaving the world scrubbed clean and raw under a pale, unforgiving sun.

She had been released two hours ago. No charges filed. Yet. The DA was "reviewing the evidence," which meant Julian hadn't decided whether to prosecute or just let her rot in legal limbo.

But they had let her go. Because she wasn't the prize. Elias was.

She pulled her coat tighter, shivering in the damp air. She had nowhere to go. Her car was impounded. Her house keys were in the ashes of Mercer Hall. Her bank account was empty.

Marcus pulled up in the rental car, looking as wrecked as she felt. He got out, holding two coffees.

"You okay?" he asked.

"No," Iris said. She took the coffee, wrapping her hands around the warmth. "He's in there, Marcus. He's back in a cage."

"We'll get him out," Marcus said. "My sister is filing an emergency petition. We're going to challenge the guardianship."

"It will take weeks," Iris said. "Months. Julian won't wait that long. He'll move him. He'll drug him until he can't speak."

She looked at the windows. Rows of identical, barred rectangles. Behind one of them was Elias.

"I need to see him," she said.

"You can't. There's a restraining order. You step on that property, you go back to jail."

"I don't need to go in," she said.

She walked to the edge of the lot, scanning the facade. She remembered the layout from the brochure Julian had shown her. The secure wing was on the third floor. East side.

She counted the windows. One, two, three.

There.

A face was pressed against the glass.

It was small, distant, just a pale blur. But she knew him. She knew the way he stood, the way he leaned, as if the glass were the only thing holding him upright.

Elias.

He saw her. He didn't wave. He didn't smile.

He raised a hand, pressing his palm flat against the window.

Iris raised her own hand. A silent high-five across the chasm of power and law.

He trusted her. After everything—the fire, the crash, the betrayal—he still trusted her.

He moved his hand. He breathed on the glass, fogging it.

Then he wrote something. A single word, traced backwards so she could read it.

*B-O-O-K*

Book.

Iris frowned. What book? The library book? The one she had found under his pillow in the basement?

*Mom, why don't you answer?*

That book was gone. Burned in the fire at Mercer Hall.

Elias wrote again.

*L-I-B-R-A-R-Y*

Then he pointed. Not at her. Not at the parking lot.

He pointed south. Toward the ruins of the estate.

The library. Not the book itself. The room.

The fire had started in the attic. It had burned down, collapsing the roof, gutting the upper floors.

But the library was on the ground floor. In the stone wing. The oldest part of the house.

If anything survived, it would be there.

He wrote one last word.

*S-A-F-E*

And then he was pulled away. Two orderlies appeared behind him, grabbing his arms. The curtain was drawn shut.

Iris stood there, staring at the blank window.

"What did he say?" Marcus asked.

"He said we need to go back to the house," Iris said. "He said the answer is in the safe."

"The safe?" Marcus asked. "Sabrina emptied the safe. She took the hard drives. She took the passports."

"Not that safe," Iris said, remembering the layout of the library. Remembering the wall behind the portrait of Grandfather Vance. That was the wall safe. The modern one.

But there was another one.

An old floor safe. Hidden under the rug. The one Julian never used because the combination was lost.

Or so he said.

"We need to get into the ruins," Iris said.

"The police have the site locked down," Marcus said. "It's a crime scene."

"I have a key," Iris said, patting her pocket. The housekeeper's keys. She still had them.

"A key to what? The house is a pile of ash."

"To the bulkhead," Iris said. "The storm cellar entrance. It's outside the perimeter fence. It leads to the sub-basement."

"The sub-basement?"

"The old coal storage," Iris said. "It runs under the entire house. Including the library."

She looked at Marcus.

"If the floor collapsed," she said, "the safe fell through. It's waiting for us in the coal chute."

He wrote on the fogged glass: 'Book.'