Chapter 2 - The Sound Behind the Door
By midnight, the mansion had grown unnaturally quiet.
Ruby sat in the armchair in the corner of the nursery, listening to the rhythmic, shallow breathing of the boy sleeping—or pretending to sleep—on the cot across the room.
Her shoulder throbbed where the diner freezer had hit her, but her mind was racing. Ten thousand dollars. She could almost see Miles sitting up in a hospital bed, color returning to his cheeks, laughing at one of her terrible jokes.
A faint click echoed from the hallway.
Ruby opened her eyes.
The nursery door was locked from the outside—Mrs. Ashcroft made sure of that every evening—but the sound didn't come from the door handle.
It came from the baseboard near the bookshelf.
Ruby stood up silently, her socks making no sound against the wood. She crept across the room, careful not to step on the creaky floorboard near the window.
Kneeling down, she pressed her ear against the white wainscoting.
From somewhere deep within the walls—or perhaps from the adjoining suite that had been permanently sealed off—came a muffled voice.
It wasn't a man’s voice.
It was a woman singing.
A low, trembling lullaby, humming a tune that sounded like something from an old church hymnal, followed by a sharp, metallic rattle, like a key turning in a rusted lock.
“Hush now, little bird, don't you make a sound…”
Then, a thump.
Like someone falling against drywall.
Ruby’s breath hitched. She looked over at the cot.
Ollie was sitting straight up.
His eyes were wide open in the dark, staring directly at the wall where the sound was coming from. His hands were clamped over his ears, his fingernails digging into his skin until white crescents formed.
He wasn't crying. He was holding his breath, as if he believed that if he stopped breathing, the thing behind the wall wouldn't know he was there.
“Ollie?” Ruby whispered, crawling toward him.
The boy flinched violently away from her, his back hitting the wall. He opened his mouth, and for a second, Ruby thought he was going to scream.
Instead, he reached out with a trembling hand, grabbed the hem of her black dress, and pulled her down until her ear was right against his lips.
He didn't speak words.
He breathed them, so quietly she almost missed them over the sound of her own pulse.
“Don't… let… her… turn… the… lights… on.”
“Who?” Ruby asked, her heart pounding. “Who, Ollie?”
Before the boy could answer, the heavy oak door of the nursery rattled.
A key turned.
The door swung inward.
Standing in the hallway light was Nathaniel Cross.
He wore a dark charcoal shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong, corded forearms. His expression was exhausted, hard-edged, and entirely unyielding. He looked down at Ruby, who was kneeling beside his trembling son.
“What are you doing?” Nathaniel asked, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that vibrated in the small room.
“He was awake, Mr. Cross,” Ruby said, standing up quickly to put herself between the billionaire and the boy. “He had a nightmare.”
Nathaniel stepped into the room. He didn't look at Ruby; his gaze was fixed entirely on Ollie, who had curled back into a tight ball on the cot, pulling the heavy wool blanket over his head.
“Did he speak?” Nathaniel asked sharply.
Ruby hesitated. Should she tell him about the voice behind the wall? Should she tell him what Ollie had said?
She remembered Mrs. Ashcroft’s warning. Discretion.
She remembered her brother waiting in Bridgeport.
“No,” Ruby lied, her voice steady. “He was just restless.”
Nathaniel stared at her for a long, uncomfortable moment. His eyes were so cold they looked like chips of winter river ice. He was a man who interrogated executives for breakfast; he knew when someone was hiding something.
“The previous nannies,” Nathaniel said slowly, walking toward the window and looking out at the dark water, “always had excuses. Some said he was possessed. Some said he was violent. None of them stayed long enough to realize he’s just terrified.”
“Of what?” Ruby asked.
Nathaniel turned his head slightly, his profile sharp against the moonlight.
“Of everything.”
“That’s not true,” Ruby blurted out before she could stop herself.
Nathaniel’s eyebrows rose. “Excuse me?”
“He’s not scared of everything,” Ruby said, her chin lifting defiantly. “He’s scared of something specific. Something in this house.”
A heavy silence fell over the nursery.
Nathaniel walked slowly back toward the door, his leather-soled shoes clicking softly against the floor. He stopped beside Ruby, close enough that she could smell the faint scent of cedarwood and scotch on his collar.
“Be careful what you look for in this house, Miss Lane,” Nathaniel whispered. “Some doors are locked for a reason.”
“Even the ones behind the wall?” Ruby asked softly.
Nathaniel’s face didn't change, but his pupils dilated just a fraction of a millimeter.
Without another word, he turned, walked out into the corridor, and pulled the heavy door shut.
The lock clicked.
Ruby stood in the dark for a long time, listening to the heavy silence settle back over the mansion.
On the cot, Ollie pulled the blanket down an inch, revealing one gray eye.
He pointed a small, shaking finger toward the floorboards beneath the bookshelf.
May you like
Then he made a motion across his throat with his thumb.
Dead.
