Chapter 5 - The Empty Room
The grandfather clock struck 3:00 AM.
Clare lay awake in the master bedroom, staring up at the dark plaster ceiling. Beside her, Daniel slept the heavy, exhausted sleep of a man who had exhausted his excuses and simply given up. He hadn't dared look Clare in the eyes when they finally went to bed; he had just curled up on his side of the king-sized mattress, silent and defeated.
A faint, metallic click echoed down the upstairs hallway.
Clare slipped out from under the heavy down comforter with quiet, practiced ease, making sure not to wake Daniel. She pulled on her silk robe, tying the belt tightly around her waist, and stepped out into the dark, shadowed corridor.
The door to the guest room at the end of the hall stood slightly ajar. A thin sliver of yellow light spilled across the hardwood floor.
Clare paused, her heart skipping a beat. She pushed the door open gently.
The bed was neatly made. The wool socks and the flannel nightgown lay folded on top of the floral duvet, untouched. The peppermint tea was cold, a skin forming over the surface.
The window overlooking the street was pushed open four inches, letting in a sharp, freezing gust of wind and the steady, hushed whisper of falling snow.
On the polished mahogany nightstand sat a single object, catching the pale blue light of the winter dawn breaking over the brownstone rooftops.
Richard Harrison’s heavy gold wedding ring.
Clare stepped closer, her breath catching in her throat. Beneath the ring was a scrap of hotel stationery with a few lines written in a shaky, uneven hand:
He knows where to find me if he wants to save his daughter.
Downstairs, the front door clicked shut.
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Clare ran to the hallway window and looked down into the street below. A lone figure in a navy jacket with snow dusting her shoulders was walking away down the empty, white-blanketed sidewalk, dragging a scuffed leather bag whose strap was held together by electrical tape.
And standing on the front steps, coatless in the freezing dawn, Richard Harrison stared after her, his hands empty, his silhouette etched against the cold winter light.
