Chapter 37 - The Glass by the Bedside
I didn't think. I was out from behind the desk before the monitor hissed a second time, grabbing the heavy iron fire poker from the hearth.
Meline was right behind me, her face drained of color but her movements silent and fast. We took the back service stairs two at a time, moving through the narrow carpeted corridors that bypassed the squeaking floorboards of the grand staircase.
The east wing corridor was dark, illuminated only by the faint silver moonlight reflecting off the snowdrifts outside the tall arched windows.
The door to Samuel’s nursery was open three inches wider than Meline had left it.
I motioned for Meline to stay behind the heavy oak credenza in the hallway, raised the poker, and shoved the door open with my shoulder, hitting the light switch in the same motion.
The nursery was empty.
The overhead chandelier flooded the room with harsh white light. The crib was untouched. Samuel was lying on his side, his thumb curled near his mouth, his chest rising and falling in rhythmic peace.
Meline pushed past me instantly, dropping to her knees beside the crib, checking his breath, her trembling hands smoothing over his tiny shoulders. "He's fine. He's breathing. He's okay."
"Look at the nightstand," I said, my voice dangerously quiet.
Beside the rocking chair sat the small side table where Mrs. Gable had left a silver pitcher of water and a glass for Meline.
The glass, which had been empty when Meline came downstairs thirty minutes ago, was now half-full of clear water. Floating near the bottom, dissolving slowly into tiny milky tendrils, was an unidentifiable white tablet.
Beside the glass lay a single white business card, blank on both sides except for three words typed neatly across the center:
*Five years is too long.*
I crossed the room to the heavy sash window overlooking the conservatory roof. The brass latch was unlocked. The window stood open half an inch, the winter draft chilling the heavy velvet drapes. Outside, fresh footprints were clearly visible in the snow on the copper roof, leading toward the fire escape lattice that descended into the lower gardens.
"They were in here," Meline whispered, her voice cracking as she lifted Samuel into her arms, pressing him so tight against her chest the boy stirred and let out a soft whimper. "They were inside his room, Nicholas."
"They didn't come for him," I said, picking up the glass with a linen napkin, the cold rage inside me hardening into diamond. "They came for you. A sedative in your glass. An unresponsive mother during an unannounced CPS visit. Albright would have terminated the custody agreement before breakfast."
"Julianna," Meline breathed, her eyes darting toward the open window.
"She’s still on the grounds," I said, pulling my phone from my pocket and hitting the speed dial for our private security lead. "Mark. Seal the perimeter. Nobody leaves the estate gates. Call the state police. We have an active intruder."
Before the security team could confirm, the master alarm panel on the wall began to flash amber.
The gate sensors hadn't tripped.
May you like
The alert was coming from the boathouse at the base of the cliffs—the private deep-water slip that Eleanor had kept off the municipal harbor registry for forty years.
***
