Chapter 2 — The Light Behind the Wall
Roderick stared into the corridor.
“Why is there a light on?”
Celestine looked toward the opening.
“Roderick, not with Eudora here.”
“Then take her downstairs.”
Eudora immediately tightened her grip on him.
“No.”
Roderick crouched.
“Sweetheart, you’re not in trouble.”
Eudora looked toward Celestine.
“Nobody is angry with you.”
Roderick looked directly at his wife as he said it.
Celestine’s face fell.
“I know.”
Roderick continued.
“You found something adults should have handled.”
“You did nothing wrong by wanting to tell me.”
Eudora nodded through tears.
He asked the housekeeper to stay with her in the nearby sitting room.
Eudora hesitated.
Then let go of his arm.
Before leaving, she whispered:
“There are pictures.”
Roderick frowned.
“What pictures?”
Celestine closed her eyes.
Eudora pointed into the hidden passage.
“You.”
Roderick looked sharply toward Celestine.
Eudora left.
Then silence filled the bedroom.
Roderick stood in front of the hidden doorway.
“Start talking.”
Celestine’s voice was quiet.
“I found the passage during the renovation.”
“When?”
“Six weeks ago.”
Roderick stared.
“You’ve known for six weeks?”
“Yes.”
“And you never told me.”
“I was going to.”
“Today?”
Celestine looked away.
“Soon.”
Roderick laughed once in disbelief.
“That is not an answer.”
He stepped into the passage.
Celestine followed.
“Roderick, please let me explain before you see everything.”
He stopped.
“Everything?”
Celestine said nothing.
That was enough.
Roderick continued.
The corridor was narrow.
Stone walls.
Old wooden floorboards.
A line of electrical cable ran along one side.
New cable.
Not original to the mansion.
Roderick touched it.
“You had electricity installed?”
Celestine nodded.
“Only one temporary line.”
“Why?”
“Because there was another room.”
The corridor turned.
At the end stood an old wooden door.
A modern portable lamp glowed beside it.
Roderick reached for the handle.
Celestine grabbed his wrist.
He looked at her.
She immediately released him.
“I’m sorry.”
Roderick opened the door.
Dust filled the room.
Old furniture sat under white sheets.
Against one wall were shelves filled with boxes.
And directly opposite the door stood a small table.
On it were photographs.
Dozens of them.
Roderick stepped closer.
The first photograph showed him as a young boy.
The second showed him standing beside his late father.
The third showed his mother holding a newborn baby girl.
Roderick froze.
He picked it up.
“Who is this?”
Celestine’s face went pale.
Roderick stared at the baby.
His mother had one arm around him.
He looked perhaps five years old.
The newborn was wrapped in a white blanket.
Across the bottom, someone had written:
RODERICK & MIRELLE — OCTOBER 1995.
Roderick slowly turned.
“Mirelle?”
He knew that name.
His parents had told him his baby sister Mirelle died shortly after birth.
But this photograph had been taken weeks later.
And behind it was another photograph dated three months after that.