Chapter 3 - The House That Listened
Victor looked from Leo to Adrian.
“What a solemn breakfast.”
“School spelling test,” I said.
Leo frowned at me.
I reached for his homework folder before he could correct me.
“Which we should review in the car.”
Adrian stood.
“I’ll take him today.”
That surprised everyone, including Leo.
Victor’s gaze sharpened.
“Your morning meeting—”
“Can wait.”
He rested a hand on Leo’s shoulder.
“Get your coat.”
Ten minutes later, we left Cain House in Adrian’s car with Pepper pressed against the rear window, watching us go.
I waited until the gates closed before speaking.
“Does your nephew actually have a spelling test?”
“No,” Leo said indignantly.
“Then I owe you an apology.”
He considered that.
“And a cookie.”
“Reasonable.”
Adrian’s mouth moved, but he did not quite smile.
After dropping Leo at school, we drove past the turn for home.
“Where are we going?”
“To meet my attorney.”
My stomach tightened.
“Do I need one?”
“If you want separate advice, yes. I’ll arrange access, but you choose the lawyer.”
I looked at him.
He kept his eyes on the road.
“You’re my employee. You didn’t sign up for this. I won’t pretend that makes the situation simple.”
Outside the window, Chicago moved through an ordinary morning.
People carried coffee. A man argued with a parking meter. Someone hurried along the sidewalk holding a child’s forgotten lunch.
I wanted, absurdly, to be one of them.
The attorney’s office occupied a quiet floor in a building near the river.
Miriam Cole met us in a conference room.
She was small, elegant, and entirely unimpressed by Adrian Cain.
“Tell me everything,” she said.
He did.
The attack on his way home. The song. The birthday. The recording.
When he finished, she asked whether he had informed the investigators handling Elise’s disappearance.
“Not yet.”
“Then that happens now.”
Adrian’s expression hardened.
“There are people inside my business—”
“Yes,” Miriam said. “And if you attempt to investigate this through them, your uncle may hear every question before you finish asking it.”
She turned to me.
“June, write down what Leo told you. Separate his exact words from your interpretation. Don’t rehearse the story with him.”
I nodded.
Miriam made two calls.
By noon, we had spoken privately with a detective who had worked Elise’s case and an investigator Miriam trusted. They asked calm, detailed questions.
Nobody promised that Elise was alive.
Nobody dismissed the recording either.
The detective, a woman named Alvarez, asked about the last line.
“Where the bells ring twice. Does that mean anything to either of you?”
Adrian shook his head.
I hesitated.
“What?”
“I heard something odd in the room next to Victor’s office yesterday.”
Adrian turned toward me.
“A bell,” I said. “Two notes. Like a little clock.”
“What time?”
“Just after five. Leo dropped a toy car in the hallway. I was picking it up.”
“Was Victor speaking to someone?”
“Yes. On the phone.”
“Did you hear words?”
“Only something about a delivery.”
The detective wrote it down without making it sound more significant than it was.
On our way out, Miriam asked me to remain behind.
Adrian waited in the corridor.
“You can leave this job,” she told me. “If you do, we’ll discuss what information the investigators need and how to contact you safely.”
I looked through the glass wall at Adrian.
He stood with his back to me, shoulders rigid.
“What happens to Leo?”
“His guardian will make arrangements. You are not responsible for solving this.”
“I know.”
But knowing something and feeling it were different.
“I want to stay with him,” I said. “At least until there’s a plan.”
Miriam nodded.
“Then we make sure it is a choice you can keep making.”
When we returned to Cain House, Victor was waiting in the entrance hall.
“Long morning.”
Adrian handed his coat to the housekeeper.
“Necessary one.”
Victor turned to me.
“Your grandmother called.”
My skin went cold.
“What?”
“She couldn’t reach you. Such a lovely woman.”
I checked my phone.
No missed calls.
Victor smiled.
“Perhaps she dialed the house by mistake.”
He walked away.
That evening, I called my grandmother from the garden, where I could see both doors.
“I didn’t call,” she said.
I tightened my grip on the phone.
“Did anyone call you?”
“A very polite gentleman. Asked whether you were happy in your new position.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That you’d tell me yourself.”
I shut my eyes.
My grandmother had spent thirty years working diner shifts. She could identify a threat even when it wore good manners.
“June,” she said quietly, “what kind of trouble are you in?”
I looked up at the bright windows of Cain House.
May you like
For the first time, I had an honest answer.
“I’m not sure yet.”
