Chapter 8 - The Secret in the Floorboards
The morning sun rose over the river valley like a smear of cold grease, casting a pale, jaundiced light through the fog that clung to the windows of the Harrison estate. The grand mansion sat atop the highest hill in the county, a sprawling fortress of quarried gray limestone and slate roofs that looked down upon the town like an indifferent feudal lord.
Inside the cavernous master study, the air smelled of aged leather, pipe tobacco, and polished mahogany. A massive stone fireplace dominated the far wall, unlit and cold.
Arthur Harrison sat behind his oversized mahogany desk, staring down at a heavy iron lockbox that sat squarely in the center of the green felt blotter. His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles bruising the skin beneath them. He hadn't slept a wink since Sarah’s death in the trauma bay hours earlier.
The front door chimed softly downstairs. A moment later, heavy footsteps approached the study, and the door swung open to reveal Marcus Henderson, accompanied by Claire, who was holding the hand of a very quiet, very pale Leo. The boy was now dressed in a tailored navy blue wool blazer and gray slacks that Arthur’s housekeeper had hastily procured from a high-end children’s boutique in the city, but the fine clothes only made him look more like a ghost haunting a museum.
"How is he holding up?" Arthur asked, his voice rough and raspy, as he looked up from the desk.
"Physically, he's fine. The pediatrician cleared him an hour ago," Henderson said, guiding Leo gently toward a leather armchair near the fireplace. Claire walked with the boy, helping him climb up into the oversized seat, where he sat clutching a small, battered stuffed bear he had refused to leave behind at the rail yard. "Emotionally... well, he hasn't cried a single tear since he saw the sheet over his mother's face. He's completely shut down, Arthur. Trauma response. He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop."
Arthur nodded slowly. He stood up from his desk, walking stiffly around the mahogany barrier. He knelt down beside Leo’s chair, stopping a few feet away so as not to crowd the boy.
"Leo," Arthur said, keeping his voice as gentle as his weathered vocal cords would allow. "I know this is terrifying. I know everything changed last night. But I want you to look at me."
Leo slowly lifted his head. His dark eyes were unnaturally dry, staring right through Arthur with a chilling, defensive maturity. "Are you going to send me away now?" he asked, his voice completely flat. "Like you did to my mom?"
The words hit Arthur like a physical blow, driving the breath straight out of his lungs. He flinched, his jaw tightening as the sting of his past failures burned deep into his chest.
"No," Arthur said firmly, reaching out to place a hand gently on the arm of the chair. "I am never sending you away. This is your home now. Everything I have belongs to the Harrison family, and you are the last of us. You are safe here, Leo. I give you my word."
Leo looked down at the stuffed bear in his lap, turning it over in his small hands. "Mom said you had a safe," he whispered, so quietly that Arthur had to strain to hear him. "She said before she got really sick, she hid something of grandpa's in the house before she left. She said if anything happened to her, I had to find it."
Arthur’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He looked up at Henderson and Claire, who exchanged puzzled glances.
"A safe?" Arthur echoed. "Sarah hasn't been in this house in twenty years, Leo. How would she know about a safe?"
"Not this house," Leo corrected, lifting his head. "The old carriage house down by the river. The one behind the mill. She used to play there when she was little. She said there was a floorboard near the back wall that didn't nail down right. She told me... she told me if you wouldn't listen, I should look there for the proof."
Arthur stood up slowly, a cold prickle of curiosity and apprehension washing over him. The old stone carriage house behind the abandoned textile mill on the river had been locked and abandoned since Sarah’s departure. It was part of the Harrison industrial holdings, a decaying relic of the family’s early manufacturing days.
"Proof of what?" Arthur asked, his voice dropping to a murmur.
"She didn't say," Leo replied, finally blinking, a single tear escaping to track down his cheek. "She just said it was something you needed to see before you could understand why she had to run."
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Arthur looked at Henderson. The doctor gave a solemn, affirming nod. "It’s worth checking out, Arthur. If there’s something she wanted you to find, it might give the boy some closure—and maybe give you some peace."
"Claire," Arthur said, turning to the young woman who had stood by him through the entire nightmare. "Stay here with Leo. Keep him warm. Marcus and I are going down to the river."
