Chapter 3 - Noah’s Alphabet
Claire returned to the mansion pretending nothing had happened.
She smiled at the cook.
Folded towels.
Vacuumed the east corridor.
Never once looked directly at Vanessa.
But she began documenting everything.
Medication times.
Meal portions.
Bruises.
Canceled therapy appointments.
Security camera positions.
Names of every person who entered Noah’s wing.
Claire stored the information in a private online folder Daniel had created.
If her phone disappeared, the evidence would survive.
Three days passed.
Then Vanessa left for an afternoon fundraiser.
Claire entered Noah’s room carrying fresh sheets.
He was awake.
“Your stepmother is gone.”
His shoulders relaxed.
Claire sat beside him.
“We need a way to talk.”
Noah looked uncertain.
Claire wrote the alphabet across a sheet of paper.
A through Z.
“I’ll point.”
“When I reach the letter you want, blink twice.”
His eyes widened.
Claire began.
A.
B.
C.
At B, Noah blinked twice.
Claire wrote it down.
She continued.
R.
Blink.
A.
Blink.
K.
Blink.
E.
Blink.
S.
Claire stared at the word.
BRAKES.
Her heart started pounding.
“What brakes?”
Noah pointed shakily toward the framed photograph on his dresser.
It showed a smiling woman beside a much younger Noah.
Laura Whitman.
His mother.
The woman who had died in the car crash that injured him.
Claire swallowed.
“The accident?”
Noah blinked twice.
Claire returned to the alphabet.
Noah spelled another word.
VANESSA.
Claire stared at him.
“Vanessa did something to the brakes?”
Noah’s chest rose rapidly.
Then he nodded.
Claire felt as if the room tilted.
Laura Whitman’s death had been reported as a tragic mechanical failure on a rainy highway.
No criminal investigation.
No charges.
Grant had been in California when it happened.
Vanessa had married him fourteen months later.
Claire looked at the photograph again.
“Did you see her do it?”
Noah shook his head.
Then he gestured toward his ear.
“You heard something?”
He nodded.
Claire started the alphabet again.
GARAGE.
NIGHT.
ARGUING.
MOM.
VANESSA.
Then Noah stopped.
His face had turned gray.
Claire immediately put the paper aside.
“That’s enough.”
But Noah grabbed her wrist.
His grip was surprisingly strong.
He pointed at the alphabet again.
One final word.
BOX.
“What box?”
Noah pointed upward.
Not at the shelf.
At the ceiling.
Claire followed his gaze.
Above them was the sealed third floor.
A section of the mansion that Vanessa claimed had not been used since Laura died.
Before Claire could ask more, the bedroom door slammed open.
May you like
Vanessa stood there.
And in her hand was the alphabet sheet Claire had left on the bed.
