The Ghost Hunt
1556 Words
CHAPTER SEVEN
Victor’s words were like smoke in the room.
"Damien's gone."
Kael stared at him, sure that he'd misheard.
Gone?
Victor nodded. We searched the house. His office is empty, his car is gone, and no security cameras captured him leaving.”
Kael frowned. ‘’That’s impossible’’.
It should be.” Victor looked very upset.’’
"The cameras were dark for exactly three minutes.’’
Lena whisper, "That is what happened in the attack.’’
Nobody disagreed. Margaret settled herself in a chair close by, her shoulder, wounded, shivering beneath its bandages.
‘’He planned it.”
Kael looked at her. "My father meant to vanish?"
‘’No," he shook her slowly.. He thought someone would help him get lost.
The room was silent.
Kael walked into Damien’s private study. Everything was just as it had been. The whiskey glass was still on the desk, the chessboard unchanged. But there in the middle of the board stood the black queen and the white king lay on his side. Kael halted. He had never left the king like this. Someone had shifted the pieces.
He moved nearer. Below the fallen king was a folded paper with a single sentence. Some games are only won by disappearing. No date, no signature.
Kael balled up the note in his hand. “This is what my father left me.’’
Victor examined the handwriting. "Not at all. It’s nothing."
"Sure you are?"
“I have been watching Damien sign documents for thirty years. Victor looked at the note once more. “This is somebody else’s.
Detective Elias Mercer pulled his unmarked sedan to the curb across the street from the Blackthorn Estate. From a distance the mansion looked peaceful — too peaceful. His instincts told him that this was different. He got out a pair of binoculars. Security on the estate had doubled; guards patrolled the walls, and more cameras had been put overnight. Someone was getting ready for another attack or covering something up.
His phone buzzed. Message from the anonymous sender: Stop looking at the gate.
Mercer's hand tightened. Another message appeared. Watch the lake.
He lowered the glasses and looked beyond the estate to the thick trees that crowded close about a narrow lake behind the mansion. The sender knew the estate well.
Back at the mansion, Kael searched through Damien's office with care. Every drawer, every shelf, every locked cabinet. Nothing. The study had been scrubbed with nearly surgical precision. Whoever took Damien took all the evidence.
Lena wandered over to a large oil painting hanging over the fireplace. It was the Ashcroft family from decades ago. Damien, Isabella, and a young Kael. Something caught her eye.
“Kael.
He glanced up. "What?"
She indicated the painting. "Your mother is not looking at the artist.’’
Kael frowned. She was right. Everyone else in the portrait faced forward. Isabella was the only one who looked a little to her left, to the edge of the canvas, as if she looked at something outside the painting.
Lena took a step closer. "There. She pointed at a small section near Isabella's hand. In the background, there had been painted a hawk, small enough to overlook, big enough to mean something.
Margaret gave a faint smile. "Always did like to leave clues.’’
Kael carefully removed the painting from the wall. Behind it was not another compartment. It was a narrow steel safe, concealed in the masonry. Victor looked surprised.
“Never seen that before.”
Kael eyed the lock. There was no keypad, no knob, just a small brass keyhole, the right size for the key Margaret had given him. Slowly he pulled the brass key from his pocket. The room was perfectly still. He shoved it into the lock. It spun easily, and a loud metallic click sounded in the study. The safe door slowly squeaked open.
Inside rested only one object, a black velvet box. Kael reached inside. As soon as his fingers touched it, the mansion lights flickered—once, twice—then every television in Blackthorn Estate turned on at once.
Each room had a distorted voice.
‘’Good evening, Kael.’’
His blood froze. He recognized that voice. The man with the silver mask had just entered his house.
Everyone in the study stopped moving. The televisions around the room flickered static, and then a familiar figure stepped out of distortion, the silver mask, the leader of the Serpent Circle.
Kael’s jaw tightened.
"You."
The masked man tilted his head slightly, "Good, You are learning."
Victor quickly snatched the television's power cord and yanked it from the wall. The screen was still on.
Lena’s eyes grew wide. "How is that possible?’’
The man in the mask laughed. “You’re not asking the right questions.” He looked like he was staring right at Kael. The question you have to ask is why your father disappeared tonight.
Kael moved closer. "What did you do with him?
“Nothing.” It was an instant answer. For once Damien Ashcroft chose for himself.
Nobody in the room seemed convinced. The masked man went on. He’s gone because he knows the truth is on his tail.
Margaret went white. “Enough.’’
The masked man didn't hear her. “Twenty-six years of lies.’’
"Stop!" Margaret said again.
The masked man finally turned to face the camera, his silver mask reflecting the static. "You know exactly what I mean.’’
A long silence. Then the screen went dark. The televisions all went together and the mansion was quiet again.
There was a few seconds of silence. Margaret glanced at Kael. You know him.
‘’She looked down.”
“No.’’
‘’Don't lie to me.’’
‘’I’m not.’’
You knew what he was talking about.
Margaret said nothing. That quiet was answer enough.
Before Kael could push further, Victor interrupted. "The box. All eyes turned to the safe, the black velvet box still clutched in Kael’s hands. Whatever the man in the mask wanted, it had to do with what was inside.’’
Kael opened it slowly. Inside was a silver pocketwatch. Nothing else, nothing less.
Lena knit her brow. Is that all?
Kael pulled it out carefully. The watch was old. Older than the journal. Older than himself. Across the cover were engraved two initials: *I.A.* Isabella Ashcroft
He pressed the release latch. The watch popped open. Instead of a clock face, there face was a small photograph.A photograph of Isabella and next to her was Damien. But neither of them looked young. Neither of them looked frightened. They smiled at each other; they had a secret.
Behind the photograph was a narrow folded slip of paper. He opened it out with care. One line only had been written: Get to Celeste before Damien does.
Detective Mercer sat in his car, overlooking the lake behind Black Estate, the anonymous messages had stop coming and rain feathered across the windshield. Nothing happened for almost an hour. Then movement caught his eye. A black SUV emerged from a hidden road on the far side of the lake. Mercer raised his binoculars at once. The vehicle pulled up beside an abandoned boathouse, the driver’s door opened, and a man climbed out.
Mercer’s heart pounded. He knew him even from afar. Damien Ashcroft. By myself.
The billionaire entered the boathouse and looked around cautiously. Mercer fetched his camera. Whatever Damien was hiding, it wasn’t on Blackthorn Estate. Here, it was.
Back at the mansion, Kael stood by the fireplace, rereading the note. Beat Dam, to Celeste. *It all seemed to circle back to the same name. Celeste Moreau. The woman in Isabella’s photograph. The woman Margaret said knew the truth. The woman his father seemed to fear.
Lena crossed her arms. And then we find her first.”
Victor nodded, "I agree’’.
Margaret looked concerned. "You do not understand."
“Then explain.”
Her eyes shifted to the photograph. I haven't seen Celeste in more than twenty years.
“She lives?”
“Yes.”
“Where is she?”
Margaret paused. Then answered at last. France.
The room was silent. Kael blinked. France?
"Southern France." Margaret nodded. That was where Isabella sent her.
"Send her away?"
"To conceal.’’
Victor looked at Kael. And the deeper they dug the bigger the mystery got.
The conversation was interrupted by a sudden vibration. Kael picked up his phone. Unknown. He answered at once.
“Who's this?”
Then only breathing could be heard on the line. Then a woman's voice spoke; Calm. Measured. Older.
I wondered how long it would take.
Kael stopped. Every cell in his body told him this wasn’t a coincidence. “Who are you?”
The woman laughed softly, sadly, the laugh of people who have been running from the past for years. “I knew your mum’’.
Her heart pounded. The room melted away around him. What's your name?
Time for a break then: Celeste Moreau.
Nobody said a word. Not Victor. Not Lena. Not even Margaret.
Kael clutched the phone tighter. ‘Where are you?’
'Someplace your father can't find me.
Why are you calling now?
The answer was instant. "Because Damien has finally broken the one promise he swore he never would."
Kael’s stomach dropped. "What promise?’’ Silence. Then Celeste said four words that changed everything.
"Your mother did not die’’.
The line went dead.
- Writer
