Chapter 3 - The Cottage
Lake Ashford was ninety minutes from our house.
Quinn refused to let me ride with the detectives.
I followed in my own SUV while Maria stayed with Ilaria.
Two patrol units joined us before we reached the county line.
Rain began falling as the road narrowed.
The cottage appeared through the trees shortly after midnight.
I almost did not recognize it.
Elena’s parents had painted it white.
Now the siding was gray.
The windows were covered.
A chain stretched across the driveway.
And the front door was blue.
Exactly as Ilaria had remembered.
Quinn stopped me near the vehicles.
“You stay here.”
“That’s my wife’s property.”
“Not anymore.”
“Someone forged her signature.”
“That’s part of what we’re investigating.”
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“My four-year-old daughter remembers my missing wife screaming inside that house.”
“And that is exactly why you are staying behind.”
She pointed toward the armed officers.
“If someone is inside, I’m not letting you become another victim.”
The words were harsh.
But they worked.
I remained beside the SUV.
Quinn and Pike approached the cottage.
Two officers went around the rear.
Another checked the detached garage.
The rain grew heavier.
Then Pike tested the blue door.
Locked.
Quinn retrieved the brass key.
She inserted it.
The lock turned.
I felt my pulse in my throat.
They entered.
For twenty seconds, nothing happened.
Then thirty.
Then forty.
My phone vibrated.
Maria.
I answered immediately.
“How is she?”
“Sleeping.”
I exhaled.
“Good.”
“Did the key work?”
“Yes.”
Maria whispered a prayer.
Then she said:
“Mr. Mercer, there is something else.”
“What?”
“After Mrs. Mercer disappeared, Madeline came to the house before you knew she was back in town.”
My chest tightened.
“When?”
“Two days after the car was found.”
“Why?”
“She said she came to help.”
“She told me Elena had been planning to leave you.”
“That’s what she told police later.”
“Yes.”
“But that day she said something different.”
“What?”
Maria hesitated.
“She told me grief would make you easy to control.”
I closed my eyes.
“Why are you only telling me this now?”
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of Madeline?”
“Of whoever was helping her.”
I watched the cottage.
Quinn appeared in the doorway.
She motioned to Pike.
Then both disappeared again.
Maria continued.
“Madeline knew things she shouldn’t have known.”
“Like what?”
“She knew where Mrs. Mercer kept her passport.”
“She knew which lawyer handled your family trust.”
“She knew the alarm codes.”
My thoughts returned to Marcus.
“He had access to all of that.”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
Maria went quiet.
Then she said:
“She asked once whether Ilaria ever talked about the lake.”
I stared at the blue door.
“When?”
“About six months ago.”
“Why didn’t that seem important to you?”
“I asked her why.”
“She said Elena had once mentioned taking Ilaria there.”
“What did you say?”
“I told her Ilaria never spoke about it.”
“Was that true?”
“At the time, yes.”
I almost asked another question when someone shouted from the cottage.
My head snapped up.
Pike emerged.
“Daniel!”
I ran toward him before Quinn could stop me.
“What?”
“We found something.”
He led me onto the porch.
Quinn blocked the doorway.
“You’re not entering the basement.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s a crime scene.”
“What did you find?”
She hesitated.
Then held out a clear evidence bag.
Inside was a small silver necklace.
A crescent moon charm hung from the chain.
My knees nearly gave way.
I had given that necklace to Elena on our first anniversary.
“She was here.”
Quinn nodded.
“We believe so.”
“When?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“What else?”
Pike answered.
“There’s a room in the basement.”
“What room?”
“No windows.”
“A lock on the outside.”
My stomach twisted.
Quinn continued.
“There’s bedding.”
“Water bottles.”
“Food containers.”
“And restraints attached to the wall.”
I looked away.
The rain blurred the yard.
“Was she kept there?”
“We can’t say yet.”
“Yes, you can.”
“Daniel.”
“Was Elena kept there?”
Quinn’s voice softened.
“It looks possible.”
I pressed both hands against my head.
For eleven months I had imagined cliffs.
Rivers.
Accidents.
Voluntary disappearance.
Every terrible possibility except the one standing behind that blue door.
Someone had taken her.
Someone had locked her underground.
Someone I had trusted.
Pike stepped outside.
“We found another thing.”
He handed Quinn a phone.
It was old.
Damaged.
The screen was cracked.
“Whose?”
“We don’t know.”
The battery was gone.
Quinn placed it in an evidence bag.
Then one officer called from the garage.
“Detective!”
We followed him.
The garage smelled of damp wood and gasoline.
There was no vehicle.
But tire marks were visible in the dust.
Pike shined his flashlight along the wall.
A child’s drawing had been taped behind a storage cabinet.
I recognized Ilaria’s purple crayon immediately.
It showed three people.
A little girl.
A woman.
And a tall black figure.
The woman stood behind a blue rectangle.
The black figure had one hand raised.
One finger was bent.
Marcus.
I stared at the picture.
Quinn photographed it.
Then she carefully removed it.
On the back, someone had written a date.
May 14.
The day Elena disappeared.
“This proves Ilaria was here.”
Pike nodded.
“And it proves someone lied about her being with Maria.”
Quinn looked toward the road.
“We need to find Reed.”
A patrol officer approached.
“We may have something.”
He showed Quinn his phone.
“A traffic camera picked up Reed’s SUV forty-five minutes ago.”
“Where?”
“Heading north on Route 12.”
Quinn frowned.
“That road leads nowhere except the old quarry and the interstate.”
The officer enlarged the image.
A second vehicle was visible behind Marcus.
A white Mercedes.
Madeline drove a white Mercedes.
“They’re together.”
I said it before anyone else could.
Quinn called dispatch.
Then Pike’s phone rang.
He listened.
His expression changed.
“What?”
Quinn asked.
Pike looked directly at me.
“The lab just pulled the serial number from the phone we found.”
“And?”
“It belonged to Elena.”
I stepped toward him.
“Can they recover anything?”
“They’re trying.”
Quinn’s phone rang next.
She answered.
“Yes?”
I watched her face.
“What hospital?”
My stomach dropped.
She ended the call.
“Madeline’s Mercedes crashed twenty miles north of here.”
“Is she alive?”
“Yes.”
“Marcus?”
“Not in the vehicle.”
“Was anyone else?”
Quinn looked at me.
“A man was found unconscious in the passenger seat.”
“Who?”
“No identification yet.”
I grabbed my keys.
Quinn stopped me.
“You are not going to the hospital.”
“Why?”
“Because Madeline could become a suspect.”
“She already is.”
“We need separation.”
I stared at her.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A text message.
I opened it.
One photograph loaded.
Elena.
She was sitting in a chair.
Her hair was longer.
Her face was pale.
But there was no question.
It was my wife.
Alive.
A date was visible on a newspaper beside her.
Three days earlier.
Underneath the photograph was a message.
STOP LOOKING.
OR THE NEXT PHOTO WILL BE DIFFERENT.
I showed Quinn.
Her face changed instantly.
“Do not respond.”
I could barely breathe.
“Elena is alive.”
Quinn nodded.
For the first time that night, her professional calm broke.
“Yes.”
Somewhere in the darkness around Lake Ashford, a branch cracked.
Every officer turned.
Then another phone rang.
It was mine.
The same unknown number.
I answered.
There was no voice.
Only breathing.
Then a woman whispered three words.
“Daniel, it’s me.”
I knew that voice.
“Elena?”
A crash sounded.
Someone shouted in the background.
The call ended.
I stared at the screen.
For eleven months, I had wondered whether my wife was dead.
Now I knew she was alive.
May you like
And whoever had her knew I had found the blue door.
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