Chapter 3 - THE BROTHER AT THE GATEGabriel Calloway arrived at 6:17 that evening.
“Give me that.”
Autumn did not move quickly enough for him.
He took the photograph from her hand and stared at the red message.
His expression remained almost completely still.
Almost.
But Autumn saw his fingers trembling.
“Where did you find this?”
“Behind the dresser.”
“How long has it been there?”
“I don’t know.”
Dominic looked toward the hallway.
“Marco!”
The response came instantly.
A tall man in a charcoal suit entered.
Dominic handed him the photograph.
“Lock the house down.”
Marco’s face changed when he read it.
“Everyone?”
“Everyone.”
Within minutes, gates closed.
Security men appeared at doors.
Household employees were told to remain where they were.
Phones were collected.
Cars were searched.
Autumn watched from Wren’s bedroom doorway.
“This is going to frighten her.”
Dominic turned.
“My daughter has been receiving death threats.”
“For two years.”
The words landed harder than she intended.
Dominic stared at her.
Autumn refused to look away.
“Someone has been frightening her for two years,” she continued. “And whatever you’re doing downstairs now, she’s going to think she caused it.”
“My job is keeping her alive.”
“Then start by making sure she doesn’t believe telling the truth destroys everyone around her.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
Few people spoke to Dominic Calloway that way.
Autumn understood that from Marco’s expression.
But Dominic did not fire her.
He looked at Wren’s closed bathroom door.
“What did she tell you?”
Autumn hesitated.
“Last night she said, ‘He knows you’re here.’”
Dominic’s face hardened.
“Who?”
“She wouldn’t say.”
He immediately walked toward the bathroom.
Autumn stepped in front of him.
“No.”
Dominic stopped.
“Move.”
“You walk in there looking like that, she won’t tell you anything.”
“That is my daughter.”
“And she’s terrified of disappointing you.”
His expression flickered.
Autumn softened her voice.
“You’re powerful. Adults probably find that useful. Children don’t always understand power as protection. Sometimes it just feels like another thing they can accidentally set off.”
For several seconds, Dominic said nothing.
Then he stepped back.
Autumn knocked gently.
“Wren? It’s me.”
No response.
“I found the music box.”
Something struck the bathroom floor.
Autumn heard a frightened breath.
“I’m not angry.”
“Put it back.”
“I can.”
“Put it back!”
“I will if you want.”
The bathroom door opened one inch.
Wren’s eye appeared in the gap.
Then she saw Dominic behind Autumn.
The door slammed.
“Daddy can’t know!”
Dominic flinched.
Autumn turned toward him.
There it was.
The problem.
Wren was not merely frightened of whoever left the messages.
She had been trained to fear her father finding out.
Dominic stepped closer to the door but kept his voice quiet.
“Birdie.”
Wren began crying.
Autumn saw the nickname affect him.
“My little bird,” Dominic said. “I’m not angry.”
“You’ll make him mad.”
Dominic looked at Autumn.
“Who?”
Silence.
“Wren, sweetheart, who will I make mad?”
“You know.”
“I don’t.”
“You do!”
Dominic’s helplessness was almost painful to witness.
Autumn crouched near the bathroom door.
“Wren, was the box from someone you know?”
“Yes.”
“Someone who lives here?”
No answer.
“Someone who works here?”
A pause.
“No.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
Autumn continued.
“Does he come to the house?”
“Yes.”
“How often?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is he here now?”
The bathroom became completely silent.
Then:
“Sometimes.”
Autumn felt cold spread across her arms.
“Did he give you the box?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
“Mommy.”
Dominic’s face changed again.
“When?” Autumn asked.
“Before she died.”
Dominic stepped forward.
“Wren, your mother bought that?”
“She said it was special.”
Dominic looked at the tiny blue box.
“I’ve never seen it.”
“She told me not to show you.”
That stopped him.
“Why?”
“She said it had secrets.”
Autumn looked down at the box.
The engraved ballerina.
The scratched bottom panel.
The threatening photograph.
Something did not fit.
If Isabelle had given the box to Wren before her death, the threat could have been added later.
Which meant someone had access to the child’s bedroom.
Repeatedly.
“Wren,” Autumn said, “when did the red writing appear?”
Another long pause.
“The first night.”
“What first night?”
“After Mommy went to heaven.”
Dominic sat down hard on the edge of the bed.
Autumn’s stomach tightened.
Two years ago.
The night after Isabelle died, someone had placed a threat inside the grieving child’s music box.
“Was that the only message?”
“No.”
Dominic raised his head.
“How many?”
Wren whispered:
“Lots.”
Autumn looked around the bedroom.
“Where are they?”
“I burned them.”
Dominic stood.
“What?”
“He told me to.”
“Who?”
No answer.
Autumn tried another direction.
“How did he give you the messages?”
The child’s breathing quickened.
“At nine.”
Every night.
Exactly nine.
Autumn looked at the music box again.
Suddenly she remembered what had happened the previous evening.
The melody had started without anyone touching it.
She picked it up.
“Dominic.”
He looked at her.
“This isn’t just a music box.”
She examined the base carefully.
There was an ordinary winding key.
But beside it sat another small metal opening.
Too modern.
Too precise.
Autumn pressed her thumbnail against the scratched wood panel.
It shifted.
Inside was a miniature circuit board.
A battery.
A tiny speaker.
And something resembling a SIM module.
Marco came closer.
“What the hell is that?”
Dominic’s expression darkened.
“A receiver.”
Autumn felt her pulse accelerate.
Someone had modified the music box.
Someone could activate it remotely.
At nine each night.
Perhaps the melody was not simply a melody.
Autumn lifted the internal panel carefully.
There was a second compartment.
Inside it sat a microSD card.
Marco brought a laptop that had never been connected to the mansion network.
They inserted the card.
There were dozens of audio files.
Each labeled by date.
Two years of recordings.
Dominic clicked the earliest.
Static filled the speakers.
Then came Wren’s younger voice, crying.
A distorted male voice followed.
“You remember what happened to Mommy?”
Dominic went completely still.
On the recording, six-year-old Wren whispered:
“Yes.”
“Good. Then you remember what happens when little girls tell secrets.”
The audio ended.
Nobody moved.
Autumn felt sick.
Dominic clicked another file.
The same distorted voice.
“Your father is downstairs. If you tell him, I’ll make sure he disappears too.”
Another.
“You were bad today.”
Another.
“I saw you talking to the gardener.”
Another.
“Don’t trust the new nanny.”
Another.
“She’ll leave like the others.”
Dominic’s knuckles turned white around the laptop.
Then Marco opened the final recording.
It was dated yesterday.
The voice said:
“The new maid asks too many questions.”
Autumn stopped breathing.
The recording continued.
“At nine tomorrow night, open your window.”
Wren screamed from inside the bathroom.
“No!”
Autumn rushed toward the door.
“Wren!”
The lock turned.
The little girl burst out and wrapped herself around Autumn.
“He’s coming!”
Dominic crossed the room.
“Who is coming?”
Wren buried her face against Autumn.
“The man who killed Mommy.”
The room fell silent.
Dominic stared at his daughter.
His voice was barely audible.
“Wren…”
The little girl raised her tear-streaked face.
And finally spoke the name she had been too terrified to say for two years.
“Uncle Gabriel.”
Dominic looked as if someone had shot him.
May you like
Because Gabriel Calloway was not merely his brother.
He was the man Dominic trusted with his daughter’s life.
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