Chapter 2 - THE BLUE ROOM
Nathan did not enter immediately.
For several seconds, he simply stared at Graham.
“The pastry wasn’t the first what?”
Graham’s face had gone gray.
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
Nathan stepped closer.
“You’re going to say much more than that.”
“Sir, we should contact the authorities.”
“We will.”
Nathan pointed toward the room.
“But you are telling me what you meant first.”
Graham looked down the hallway.
Nathan followed his gaze.
Nobody was there.
“Stop checking whether my mother is listening.”
Graham’s jaw tightened.
Nathan understood.
“You’re afraid of her.”
“I’m afraid of what happens when people underestimate her.”
Nathan felt anger rise again.
“You work for me.”
“I know.”
“You have watched my son living in this house while you were afraid of my mother.”
Graham’s expression twisted.
“I never thought Jamie was in danger.”
Nathan grabbed the front of his jacket.
“You didn’t think?”
Graham did not resist.
Nathan forced himself to release him.
“Start talking.”
Graham lowered his voice.
“About three months ago, one of the night guards found food in the east corridor.”
“What kind of food?”
“A plate.”
“With what on it?”
“A half-eaten custard tart.”
Nathan’s stomach turned.
“What was wrong with it?”
“There was something inside.”
“What?”
Graham hesitated.
“A beetle.”
Nathan’s mind went blank.
“The same kind?”
“I don’t know.”
“What happened to it?”
“Mrs. Harcourt said the kitchen had a pantry infestation.”
Nathan laughed in disbelief.
“And you accepted that?”
“She ordered the plate destroyed.”
“And you obeyed her.”
Graham said nothing.
Nathan stared at him.
“Who ate the tart?”
“We never knew.”
Nathan suddenly remembered something.
Three months earlier, his younger brother Adrian had stayed at the estate for two nights.
Nathan had spent one of those evenings in London.
Jamie had been home.
Nora had been home.
His mother had been home.
A thought struck him.
“Who found the plate?”
“Daniel Reeves.”
“Where is Daniel?”
Graham looked uncomfortable.
“He doesn’t work here anymore.”
Nathan’s stare hardened.
“Why?”
“He resigned.”
“When?”
“The next morning.”
“Did you speak to him?”
“He said he was leaving immediately.”
“Did that sound normal?”
“No.”
“Did you investigate?”
“I tried.”
“What does that mean?”
Graham swallowed.
“Mrs. Harcourt told me Daniel had stolen jewelry from her bedroom.”
Nathan closed his eyes.
Of course she had.
The accusation would have been enough.
A wealthy family.
A guard with a modest salary.
A missing item.
A quiet resignation.
Everyone would assume guilt.
“Was anything actually stolen?”
“I never saw a police report.”
Nathan looked toward the blue room.
“What else?”
“That is all I know.”
Nathan turned back sharply.
“You just grabbed me to stop me from entering.”
“Because of the smell.”
Nathan frowned.
“What smell?”
Graham pointed toward the open doorway.
Nathan finally noticed it.
Something faint drifted from the room.
Earthy.
Sweet.
Rotten.
Not strong enough to identify.
Strong enough to disturb him.
Nathan reached inside and switched on the light.
The room appeared ordinary at first.
Blue wallpaper.
White trim.
An antique bed.
Two armchairs.
A writing desk.
A tall wardrobe.
Everything seemed untouched.
Then Nathan noticed the table near the far window.
A large cloth covered something rectangular.
Beside it sat a lamp.
A pair of gloves.
A pair of narrow metal tongs.
And a small kitchen knife.
Nathan stopped breathing for a moment.
Graham whispered.
“Sir.”
Nathan walked toward the table.
“Don’t touch the cloth.”
Nathan did not.
He bent slightly.
Something moved underneath.
A faint scratching sound came from the covered object.
Nathan stepped back.
The sound came again.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
He suddenly understood Jamie’s words.
Things moving.
Lots of them.
Nathan grabbed the edge of the cloth with the metal tongs.
Graham cursed quietly.
Nathan lifted.
Beneath the cloth stood a glass terrarium.
Inside were dozens of dark insects.
Some crawled over bark.
Others clung to leaves.
Several moved against the glass.
Nathan stared.
His skin went cold.
Graham whispered.
“Jesus.”
Nathan stepped closer.
The insects looked similar to the one downstairs.
Not identical.
Similar enough.
A small heating unit had been attached to the side.
A spray bottle sat beside it.
Someone had been caring for them.
This was not an accidental infestation.
This was a collection.
Nathan’s gaze moved across the table.
There were three small containers.
Two were empty.
One held a single insect.
Each container had a strip of masking tape.
The first was marked with a date from three months earlier.
The second showed a date from six weeks earlier.
The third had today’s date.
Nathan stared at it.
His hands became numb.
Graham looked over his shoulder.
“What are those numbers?”
Nathan leaned closer.
They were not just dates.
Each strip included initials.
The oldest one read A.H.
The second read N.H.
The third also read N.H.
Nathan’s heart slammed against his ribs.
“N.H.”
Graham looked at him.
“Nathan Harcourt.”
The security chief went silent.
Nathan pointed toward the first container.
“A.H.”
Neither man spoke.
There were two people in the immediate family whose initials were A.H.
Adrian Harcourt.
And Amelia Harcourt.
Nathan’s late wife.
Amelia.
Jamie’s mother.
Nathan stopped breathing.
The room disappeared around him.
Amelia had died twenty months earlier.
A car accident on a wet road outside Surrey.
Police had said she lost control.
Nathan had accepted the report because there had been nothing else to accept.
His mother had been the person who held him while he identified Amelia’s belongings.
His mother had arranged the funeral.
His mother had moved into the estate permanently afterward because Nathan “should not raise Jamie alone.”
Nathan stared at the letters.
A.H.
Graham spoke carefully.
“Sir?”
Nathan could barely hear him.
“Amelia.”
“What?”
“My wife.”
Graham looked at the container again.
Nathan reached toward it.
Graham stopped him.
“Don’t.”
Nathan froze.
He knew Graham was right.
They needed photographs.
They needed experts.
They needed police.
But Nathan could not look away.
A small notebook lay near the terrarium.
He used his phone to photograph the cover.
There were no words on it.
Only a black elastic strap.
Nathan used the metal tongs to lift it carefully by the edge.
The notebook opened.
The first page contained dates.
No explanations.
Just dates.
Next to several dates were names.
Daniel.
Adrian.
Nora.
Amelia.
Nathan.
Jamie.
Nathan’s entire body turned cold.
Jamie’s name was there.
He moved closer.
A date had been written beside it.
Not a past date.
A future one.
September 14.
Three weeks away.
Nathan stumbled backward.
Graham stared.
“Is that your son?”
Nathan could not answer.
Jamie had been afraid before the pastry fell.
Suddenly that fear was no longer mysterious.
Nathan pulled out his phone.
He called Nora.
She answered immediately.
“Sir?”
“Where is Jamie?”
“With me in your study.”
“Lock the door.”
There was silence.
“Sir?”
“Lock it.”
Nora did not ask questions.
Nathan heard the lock turn through the phone.
“It’s locked.”
“Do not open it for anyone except me.”
“What happened?”
Nathan stared at the notebook.
“His name is in here.”
“What do you mean?”
“My mother has a list.”
Nora became silent.
“Nathan.”
“Jamie’s on it.”
He rarely used his own first name with Nora.
Hearing her use it now made the moment feel even more serious.
“What kind of list?”
“I don’t know yet.”
A sound came from behind Nathan.
He turned.
Graham was examining the wardrobe without touching it.
One door stood slightly open.
Inside hung three garment bags.
Behind them was a shelf.
On the shelf stood several prescription bottles.
Nathan approached.
His name was printed on the labels.
NATHAN HARCOURT.
He frowned.
“These are mine.”
Graham looked at him.
“You keep medication in this room?”
“No.”
Nathan examined the labels without touching them.
Sleep medication.
Anxiety medication.
A heart medication he had never been prescribed.
His confusion deepened.
“What the hell?”
Graham photographed everything.
Nathan suddenly remembered the previous winter.
The headaches.
The strange exhaustion.
The mornings when he woke unable to remember conversations from the night before.
His mother had insisted it was grief.
Dr. Vale had agreed.
Dr. Jonathan Vale had been the family physician for twenty-seven years.
Nathan had trusted him.
So had Amelia.
Nathan felt sick.
A floorboard creaked outside the room.
Both men turned.
Nobody was visible.
Graham reached for his radio.
“Michael?”
Static answered.
“Michael, respond.”
Nothing.
Nathan’s stomach dropped.
He called Nora again.
No answer.
He tried a second time.
Nothing.
He ran from the blue room.
Graham followed.
They reached the staircase.
Nathan nearly collided with Michael coming upward.
The young guard was breathing heavily.
“Sir.”
“Where is my mother?”
Michael looked horrified.
“She’s gone.”
Nathan stopped.
“What?”
“She told me she felt faint.”
“You let her leave?”
“I called for water.”
Nathan shoved past him.
“Where did she go?”
“I don’t know.”
Nathan ran down the stairs.
The dining room was empty except for one maid.
The jar containing the insect was gone.
Nathan stared at the floor.
“Where is it?”
The maid looked confused.
“What?”
“The jar.”
She pointed toward the side table.
“It was there.”
It was not there now.
Nathan’s pulse thundered.
“Where is Mrs. Harcourt?”
“I saw her go toward the kitchen.”
Nathan ran.
The kitchen staff scattered as he entered.
“Where is my mother?”
Chef Marco DeLuca looked up from the counter.
“She came through one minute ago.”
“Where did she go?”
“Back entrance.”
Nathan swore.
He rushed through the service corridor and threw open the rear door.
Cold evening air hit his face.
A black Mercedes was disappearing down the long driveway.
Nathan recognized it immediately.
His mother’s car.
“Close the gates!”
Graham shouted into his radio.
“Gatehouse, close the main gate.”
Static.
Then a voice responded.
“Sir, the gate is already open.”
“Close it!”
“The control system isn’t responding.”
Nathan stared at the retreating car.
Someone had disabled the gate.
Someone had removed the insect from the dining room.
Someone had erased thirty-seven minutes of camera footage.
This was larger than his mother carrying a pastry upstairs.
Nathan pulled out his phone and called the police.
Before the call connected, a small voice came from behind him.
“Daddy?”
Nathan spun around.
Jamie stood in the kitchen doorway.
Nora was behind him.
Nathan crossed the distance immediately.
“I told you to stay in the study.”
Nora looked pale.
“We did.”
“What happened?”
“The fire alarm went off.”
Nathan frowned.
He had heard nothing.
“In the study?”
“Only in the study.”
Nathan looked at Graham.
The security chief looked equally disturbed.
Nora continued.
“Smoke started coming through the vent.”
Nathan’s blood ran cold.
“Smoke?”
“I opened the door because I thought there was a fire.”
Jamie clung to Nora’s hand.
Nathan crouched beside him.
“Are you okay?”
Jamie nodded.
“Did you see Grandma?”
The boy shook his head.
Then he looked toward the back door.
His face changed.
“Daddy.”
“What?”
“She took the jar.”
Nathan stared at him.
“You saw her?”
Jamie nodded.
“She had it in her bag.”
Nathan looked at Nora.
Nora nodded slowly.
“I saw something glass when she passed the hallway.”
Nathan stood.
His mother had fled with the most obvious piece of evidence.
But she had left the room upstairs.
The notebooks.
The containers.
The medication.
The terrarium.
Unless she had not expected Nathan to find it.
A terrible possibility entered his mind.
“What if she wanted us downstairs?”
Nora frowned.
Nathan looked at Graham.
“The fire alarm.”
Understanding flashed across the security chief’s face.
Nathan ran.
Back through the dining room.
Up the staircase.
Along the east corridor.
The blue room door was still open.
Smoke rolled across the ceiling.
Nathan stopped.
“No.”
Flames climbed the curtain beside the terrarium.
The notebook was already burning.
Graham grabbed Nathan before he could enter.
“Don’t!”
“My son’s name is in there!”
“The room is burning!”
Nathan fought him.
“That evidence proves—”
A sharp crack interrupted him.
The glass terrarium shattered from the heat.
Dozens of dark insects spilled onto the carpet.
Some disappeared beneath furniture.
Some crawled toward the hallway.
And beneath the burning notebook, Nathan saw something he had missed before.
A photograph.
The edges were curling in the flames.
A woman stood beside a car.
Amelia.
His dead wife.
Someone else stood behind her.
Nathan stared through the smoke.
The second person was not Mrs. Harcourt.
It was his brother.
Adrian.
And written across the bottom of the photograph were four words.
May you like
AMELIA SAW TOO MUCH.
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