THE ABANDONED HOUSE

Episode 5

Questions in the Dark

The Olivia house was silent, except for the muffled voices of the police in the study downstairs. Andrew sat stiffly on the couch in the front parlor, his hands clenched together until his knuckles burned. Across from him, Jayson sat hunched forward, his face pale and drawn, eyes darting to the floor whenever one of the officers walked past.

They had been separated when they first arrived back from the abandoned house. Statements, questions, notebooks scratching. Andrew had repeated the same thing three times: Danny went up the stairs. The railing broke. She fell. Every time the words left his mouth, they sounded thinner, emptier, like he was leaving something out.

Maybe he was.

The door to the study opened, and Officer Reeves stepped out. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his expression carved into permanent seriousness. His eyes swept the room before settling on Andrew.

“Andrew, come with me.”

Andrew stood, his legs weak, and followed him back into the study. The room smelled faintly of whiskey and leather, the shelves lined with law books and framed photos. Mr. Olivia sat at his desk, his face gray and his eyes hollow. Mrs. Olivia stood beside him, her hand resting delicately on his shoulder.

Reeves gestured to a chair. “Sit.”

Andrew obeyed, his palms damp.

“You were at the house with Danielle and Jayson?” Reeves asked, his voice even.

“Yes.”

“And how did Danielle end up falling?”

Andrew hesitated. He could still hear the c***k of the railing, see the way Danny’s body twisted as it hit the ground. His stomach lurched. “She… she was climbing the stairs. The railing broke. She fell.”

Reeves studied him carefully. “Anything unusual happen before that?”

Andrew shook his head quickly. “No. It was dark. We were just… looking around.”

Mrs. Olivia’s gaze burned into him, sharp and unreadable. He couldn’t tell if she was waiting for him to say more, or daring him not to.

Reeves closed his notebook with a snap. “All right. That’ll do for now.” He looked to Mr. Olivia. “Sir, I’m sorry for your loss. We’ll conduct a full inspection of the house, but at this stage it looks like an accident. Those stairs were rotten through.”

Mr. Olivia nodded weakly, his hand rubbing at his forehead. Mrs. Olivia, however, tilted her head just slightly, the corner of her mouth twitching as though she’d expected that answer all along.

Andrew’s chest tightened.

Outside, after the questioning was done, Andrew and Jayson walked home in silence. The night air was cool, but Andrew felt suffocated. Every step echoed like it belonged to someone else.

When they reached the corner where they usually split, Jayson finally spoke. His voice was hoarse.

“It’s over, right? Just… an accident.”

Andrew wanted to agree. He wanted to nod and go home and pretend it could all be forgotten. But Danny’s eyes—wide, shocked, staring at nothing—flashed in his mind. And behind that image, another burned sharper: Mrs. Olivia, holding her husband’s hand with perfect composure, while her eyes stayed dry.

He shook his head slowly. “I don’t think it’s over.”

Jayson frowned. “What do you mean?”

Andrew stared into the shadows of the street. “I think someone wanted her dead.”

Jayson’s mouth fell open, but no words came out.

Back in the Olivia estate, long after the police had gone, Mrs. Olivia stood alone in the darkened study. The whiskey glass in her hand glinted faintly in the moonlight. She lifted it, her reflection fractured in the cut crystal, and smiled—a cold, fleeting smile that vanished the moment she heard her husband’s footsteps on the stairs.

When he entered, she was already at his side, the perfect picture of a grieving wife.