Rachael's world went dark, and she felt herself falling. But it wasn't just the physical sensation, her mind was reeling with questions. When she came to, she was lying on the cold floor in her room, her head throbbing.
Kate was kneeling beside her, concern etched on her face.
"Rach, are you okay?" Kate muttered. Rachael groggily sat up, taking stock of her surroundings.
"What happened?" Rachael asked, her voice shaking.
"You fainted," Kate replied, her eyes locked on Rachael's.
"But before that, you saw something that made you curious. You were about to investigate the hidden door."
Rachael's memories came flooding back. Uncle Adam's strange behavior, the hidden door, and the sense of foreboding that lingered in the air. She stood up, determination etched on her face.
"We have to figure out what's really going on," Rachael said, her voice steady.
But Kate stopped her, her hand on Rachael's arm.
"No, you can't go back there. Uncle Adam had it locked already, really."
Rachael's eyes narrowed. "How do you know?"
"I checked," Kate replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's locked, and I don't think we can afford to draw more attention to ourselves."
Just then, a sharp knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Before they could respond, Harriet entered the room, a bright smile plastered on her face.
"Good morning, girls! It's time for breakfast. And, Rachael, Dr. Lee is coming to check on you. You fainted in the cellar yesterday, so we want to make sure you're okay."
Rachael's eyes locked onto her mother's, a mixture of anger and suspicion simmering beneath the surface.
"What's going on, Mum?" "What are you and Uncle Adam up to?"
Harriet's smile faltered for a moment before she regained her composure. "You're the one who's hallucinating, Rachael. Next time, you should mind your own business."
A wicked smile crossed her face, and she patted Rachael on the cheek.
"No more questions. Go and change, and get ready for breakfast."
Rachael seethed with anger and frustration as she watched her mother walk out of the room. She turned to Kate, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I don't trust her, Kate. Something's off."
Kate nodded in agreement. "I know, Rach". "We'll figure it out, but for now, let's just play dumb."
The rest of the week passed in a blur for Rachael. She went through the motions, attending breakfast and trying to focus on her work. But her mind kept wandering back to the hidden door.
As she sat at her desk one evening, staring blankly at her computer screen, buried in closing deals for the day, her phone suddenly rang. She picked it up.
"Eloise, what's up?" Rachael asked, trying to sound casual.
"Rachael…" Eloise's voice trembled, each word laced with raw emotion.
"It's my Mom, Martha… she was shot in the head. Someone, someone shot her!"
The words hung in the air like a slap, leaving Rachael breathless. Her body went still, her mind reeling in shock.
"What…?" she whispered, the sound barely audible.
At the other end of the line, Eloise's composure shattered. She broke down completely, her sobs echoing through the phone like a heart-wrenching cry.
"She's gone, Rachael!"
Tears welled up in Rachael's eyes as she clutched the phone, her grip tightening as if it were a lifeline.
"I'm so, so sorry, Eloise,"
She whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her own emotions. She leaned against the wall, her heart thudding in her chest like a drumbeat of sorrow.
Later that evening, Rachael returned home, her thoughts clouded by Eloise's devastating call. Her body moved on autopilot, her hands trembling against the steering wheel as she pulled up to the house. But then, she froze.
Flashing red and blue lights danced across the driveway. Police cars lined the front of the house. Officers stood near the entrance, speaking into radios, their faces solemn.
"What the hell…" she whispered, stepping out of the car slowly.
The moment her foot hit the pavement, her eyes locked onto Eloise, standing near the porch. Her face was pale, tear-streaked, and hollow. When she spotted Rachael, she ran towards her without hesitation.
They collided in a fierce hug, both girls clinging to each other like the ground beneath them could collapse.
"I'm so sorry, Eloise," Rachael whispered into her friend's hair, holding her tighter.
Eloise choked out, "I…I didn't know where else to go… They said the last person my Mom spoke to... was him."
Rachael pulled back, confusion in her eyes. "Who?"
Before Eloise could answer, an officer stepped out of the house, escorting someone in handcuffs.
Uncle Adam.
Rachael's breath caught in her throat. "No way…"
Adam looked disheveled, his usual calm demeanor gone. His eyes searched the crowd, then landed on Rachael.
"I didn't do this!" he shouted. "Rachael, you know me! I didn't hurt her!"
The officers shoved him into the back of the squad car as he struggled. "I only called her! That's not a crime!"
Rachael stood frozen, her mind whirling in disbelief. Eloise clutched her arm, trembling.
"I don't understand…" Rachael whispered.
"Why would anyone think Uncle Adam would hurt your mom?"
Eloise let out a shaky breath, her eyes glassy. "I thought the same, Racheal… There's no way he did this, he's been good to us. He wouldn't."
From the second floor window, Harriet stood silently, a cigarette burning between her fingers. Smoke curled around her face as she watched the scene unfold below. Her expression was unreadable, neither grief nor sympathy marked her features, only a cold, distant calm.
Inside the house, Rachael led Eloise to the living room, trying to wrap her head around the chaos. Police officers moved in and out, gathering statements, dusting surfaces for prints.
Kate appeared from the hallway, wide-eyed.
"I just heard… They think Adam killed Martha?"
"That's insane," Rachael muttered, pacing. "He's weird, yeah, but a murderer?"
Eloise sat on the couch, knees pulled to her chest.
"The police said the call records show he was the last person she spoke to before the gunshot. And they found a voice message… She sounded terrified."
Kate looked at Rachael. "What are you thinking?"
Rachael's gaze hardened. "I think we're not asking the right questions. Someone's pulling the strings."
Just then, an officer knocked on the door.
"Sorry to interrupt. Miss Rachael?" he said.
"Yes?"
The officer cleared his throat, a notebook in hand.
"Miss Rachael, we're going to need access to your uncle's room. It's locked."
"Do you have a spare key or know how to get in?" Rachael hesitated. "It's usually left open…"
She glanced at Kate, then Eloise, her fingers curling into fists.
"I'll get it," she said finally, and led the officer to his room.
With shaking hands, she slid the spare key into the lock. The door creaked open slowly, revealing a room unnervingly clean, too clean.
The officer stepped inside, scanning quickly, then moved to the drawer. Locked. He used a tool to pop it open.
There, beneath a pile of old books and a folded sweater, was a handgun.
Everything froze. Time bent. The officer turned, holding it up in a gloved hand.
"Well, well... looks like we just found our smoking gun."
Footsteps echoed on the wooden stairs. Harriet appeared at the doorway, her robe cinched tightly around her, eyes wide like she had just witnessed a ghost.
"A gun?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "What… what is going on here?"
The officer stared her down. "You're all living under the same roof as a monster."
Tears welled in Harriet's eyes almost instantly. Her hand flew to her mouth.
"Oh God… I thought Adam was a gentleman. A decent man." Her voice cracked, he was… kind."
The tears streamed now, painting a perfect portrait of maternal heartbreak.
But Rachael didn't flinch.
She watched her mother with a cold, analytical gaze like a scientist watching a lab rat try to escape a maze.
Kate shifted uncomfortably beside her.
"She's good," Kate muttered under her breath.
"Too good," Rachael replied.
Harriet sobbed all through the hallway as the officers packed up the weapon for evidence. She was inconsolable. Her cries pierced the still air even after the squad car drove away, sirens fading into the dusk.
Later, the house fell into a tense silence.
Rachael sat by the fireplace, arms crossed. Kate lingered nearby while Harriet sat dramatically on the couch, dabbing her eyes with a monogrammed handkerchief. Eloise had gone to bed early, numb from grief.
Kate sat beside Harriet, placing a hand gently on her shoulder.
"It's going to be okay, Mrs George," she said softly.
Harriet sniffled, her voice feeble. "I just… I don't understand. All these years, and he was capable of this."
But her sobs felt rehearsed. Her voice hit every note like she was reading from a tragic script. Her mascara hadn't even smudged.
Kate shot a glance at Rachael, one filled with silent understanding.
They knew.
Harriet was acting. Again.
And this time, it was all for show.
Once Harriet went to bed, Rachael leaned toward Kate.
"Why do I feel she's hiding something?"
Kate nodded. "And she's putting on that performance for a reason."
Rachael's voice dropped to a whisper, "I believe she planted that gun".
Her eyes met with Kate, who couldn't agree more.
Harriet is a devil, just like my Dad.