Five Sons, One Murder

Chapter3

THE SECRET IN THE PHOTOGRAPH

The lights came back on.

For a moment, the hallway was completely silent.

Then the figure inside Richard Williams' study moved.

The door opened slowly.

A man stood outside.

It was Stephen.

He stared into the dark room.

"Who's there?"

No answer.

Stephen stepped inside.

The curtains were moving slightly from the wind coming through the open window.

He switched on the light.

Nobody was there.

He frowned.

Something felt wrong.

He walked toward the desk.

A drawer was open.

Stephen stopped.

His father's study had always been perfectly organized. Richard hated when anyone touched his things.

Now, several papers were scattered across the desk.

Stephen picked one up.

It was a bank statement.

He barely had time to read the name before footsteps sounded behind him.

He spun around.

Prince stood in the doorway.

"What are you doing here?"

Stephen dropped the paper.

"I could ask you the same thing."

Prince's eyes moved toward the open drawer.

"Did you find anything?"

"Why would I be looking for anything?"

Prince stepped into the room.

"Because everyone in this house is looking for something."

Stephen stared at him.

"What are you looking for?"

Prince smiled.

"Nothing."

"You're lying."

"Maybe."

Stephen shook his head.

"You know what? I'm tired of everyone acting like we're enemies."

Prince's expression hardened.

"We are."

"Why?"

"Because that's how Dad raised us."

Stephen looked away.

For a moment, neither brother spoke.

Then Prince noticed something beneath the desk.

A small black envelope.

He bent down and picked it up.

Stephen's eyes widened.

"Where did that come from?"

Prince looked at him.

"I don't know."

He opened it.

Inside was a photograph.

Five young boys stood beside Richard Williams.

But there was something strange about it.

Someone had been cut out.

A piece of the photograph was missing.

Prince turned the picture over.

On the back were four words written in Richard's handwriting.

She was never supposed to return.

Stephen stared at the words.

"Who?"

Prince shook his head.

"I don't know."

A voice came from behind them.

"Neither do I."

They turned.

Chad stood at the door.

His face had gone pale.

"What are you doing with that?"

Prince held up the photograph.

"You know something?"

Chad walked into the room.

"Give it to me."

"No."

"Prince."

"I said no."

Chad reached for it.

Prince moved the photograph away.

"What are you hiding?"

"Nothing."

Stephen laughed bitterly.

"That's becoming everyone's favorite word."

Suddenly, a noise came from downstairs.

A door slammed.

All three brothers looked toward the hallway.

Prince slipped the photograph into his pocket.

"We'll talk later."

He walked out.

Stephen followed.

Chad remained in the study.

He looked at the photograph's empty space.

His expression changed.

Because he knew exactly who had been removed.

And he knew why his father had written those words.

---

The next morning, Detective Chris returned to the mansion.

He had barely stepped through the front door when a police officer approached him.

"Detective."

"What happened?"

"We found something."

"Where?"

"The study."

Chris followed him upstairs.

The officer led him to Richard's desk.

"The drawers were open when we arrived."

Chris looked around.

"Did anyone enter the room overnight?"

"Not that we know of."

"Who discovered it?"

"Stephen Williams."

Chris's eyes narrowed.

"Stephen?"

"Yes."

Chris put on his gloves.

"Did he touch anything?"

"We don't know."

Chris examined the desk.

There were fingerprints everywhere, but most belonged to Richard and the staff.

Then he noticed something.

A small piece of black fabric caught on the edge of a drawer.

He carefully removed it.

"Bag this."

The officer nodded.

Chris looked around the room.

"What was taken?"

"We're not sure."

Chris smiled faintly.

"Then let's find out."

---

Downstairs, the brothers were gathered in the living room.

Chris entered.

"I need to ask everyone a few questions."

Michael groaned.

"Again?"

"Yes. Again."

Michael leaned back.

"You people really love questions."

Chris ignored him.

"Something happened in your father's study last night."

The brothers exchanged looks.

"What happened?" Matthew asked.

"Someone searched his desk."

Silence.

Chris looked at each brother.

"Does anyone want to tell me why?"

Nobody answered.

Chris's gaze stopped on Stephen.

"You were the one who found the room."

Stephen nodded.

"Yes."

"What were you doing there?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"So you decided to visit your father's study?"

"I don't know why I went there."

"You expect me to believe that?"

Stephen's expression tightened.

"Believe whatever you want."

Chris turned toward Chad.

"What about you?"

"I wasn't there."

"Did you know your brothers were in the study?"

"No."

Chris looked at Prince.

"And you?"

Prince said nothing.

Chris waited.

Prince finally shrugged.

"I went there."

Michael sat forward.

"You did?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Last night."

"Why didn't you tell the police?"

"Because I didn't think it mattered."

Chris stepped closer.

"What were you looking for?"

Prince stared at him.

"Nothing."

Chris sighed.

"Everybody in this family is becoming very predictable."

Then he looked at Matthew.

"Your turn."

Matthew swallowed.

"I went to the study earlier in the evening."

Chris raised an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"I was looking for Dad."

"Did you find him?"

"No."

"When was that?"

"About eight."

"Was the study locked?"

"No."

"Did you see anything unusual?"

Matthew hesitated.

"No."

Chris watched him carefully.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Chris turned away.

"Fine."

He stopped.

"Oh, and one more thing."

Everyone looked at him.

"We found this."

He placed the photograph on the table.

The room went silent.

Michael reached for it.

"What is this?"

Chris pointed toward the missing portion.

"Someone has been removed."

Stephen stared at the photograph.

Prince remained completely still.

Matthew looked at Naomi.

And Chad stood frozen.

Chris noticed all of it.

Especially Chad.

"Interesting," Chris said.

Chad finally spoke.

"What?"

"You all reacted differently."

Michael frowned.

"What are you talking about?"

"Michael looked confused. Stephen looked frightened. Prince looked angry."

Chris turned toward Matthew.

"You looked guilty."

Matthew's face fell.

Then Chris looked at Chad.

"And you looked like you already knew."

Nobody spoke.

Chris picked up the photograph.

"So I'll ask again."

He looked directly at Chad.

"Who is missing from this picture?"

Chad said nothing.

Chris waited.

Finally, Chad whispered:

"My sister."

The room became completely silent.

Michael slowly stood.

"We don't have a sister."

Chad looked at him.

"Exactly."

---

Naomi was in the kitchen when Matthew found her.

She was standing beside the counter, preparing tea.

"You knew," Matthew said.

Naomi froze.

"Knew what?"

"Our father had a daughter."

The cup in Naomi's hand trembled.

"Who told you?"

"Chris showed us the photograph."

Naomi slowly placed the cup down.

Matthew stared at her.

"Naomi."

She looked away.

"Matthew, there are things you don't understand."

"Then explain them."

"I can't."

"You can."

She shook her head.

"No."

Matthew stepped closer.

"Why are you protecting a secret that belongs to my family?"

Naomi looked at him.

"Because your father wasn't the only person who wanted it hidden."

"What does that mean?"

Before she could answer, they heard footsteps.

Naomi quickly lowered her voice.

"Not here."

Matthew looked toward the door.

"Who are you afraid of?"

Naomi didn't answer.

Then someone entered the kitchen.

It was Chad.

He stopped when he saw them.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing," Naomi said.

Chad looked between them.

"You two don't look like nothing."

Matthew stared at his brother.

"Did you know?"

"Know what?"

"About our sister."

Chad's face changed.

Naomi closed her eyes.

Chad whispered:

"Who told you?"

Matthew laughed bitterly.

"That's exactly what Naomi asked me."

Chad stepped closer.

"Matthew, you need to leave this alone."

"Why?"

"Because some things are better forgotten."

Matthew shook his head.

"Not anymore."

He walked away.

Chad watched him leave.

Naomi looked at Chad.

"We have a problem."

Chad nodded.

"Yes."

"Chris knows."

"I know."

"What are we going to do?"

Chad looked toward the hallway.

"We need to find her before he does."

---

Detective Chris sat in his car outside the mansion.

The photograph was lying on the passenger seat.

He studied the empty space.

Five sons.

One missing daughter.

A secret that had apparently been buried for years.

His phone rang.

"Chris speaking."

A police officer's voice came through.

"Detective, we ran the Williams family records."

"And?"

"There is no registered daughter."

Chris frowned.

"You're sure?"

"Completely."

"Check again."

"We already did."

Chris stared at the mansion.

"Then someone went to a lot of trouble to erase her."

There was silence on the other end.

Then the officer spoke.

"Detective, there's something else."

"What?"

"We found an old birth record."

Chris sat upright.

"Where?"

"In a private hospital archive."

"Name?"

The officer hesitated.

"That's the problem."

"What?"

"The mother's name is Richard Williams' wife."

Chris's eyes widened.

"Send me the record."

"I already did."

Chris looked down at his phone.

A photograph of the document appeared.

He opened it.

His heart stopped.

The child had been born twenty-two years ago.

A girl.

But the father's name had been crossed out.

Underneath it was another name.

Chris stared at it.

Then whispered:

"Who the hell is this?"

---

That evening, the Williams family received another anonymous message.

This time, it wasn't sent to Chad.

It wasn't sent to Prince.

It wasn't sent to Matthew.

It wasn't sent to Naomi.

It was sent to Michael.

His phone vibrated while he was alone in his room.

He picked it up.

One message.

You want to know what happened to your sister?

Michael stared at the screen.

His heart began beating faster.

Another message appeared.

Ask your father.

Michael swallowed.

Then the final message arrived.

Oh, wait. You can't. He's dead.

Michael dropped the phone.

He stared at it on the floor.

Then his eyes moved toward the painting hanging above his bed.

It was a portrait he had painted years ago.

Five boys standing together.

Except Michael had never known why, whenever he painted his family, he always felt like someone was missing.

He suddenly understood.

Someone had been missing all along.

And somebody had made sure they never found her.

TO BE CONTINUED...