Chapter 3 - THE SECRET ROOM
Two days later, I returned home with a brace on my leg.
Ryan wasn't there.
Neither was Diane.
The house felt different.
Every hallway seemed colder.
Rebecca walked beside me while my father followed carrying the hospital file.
“I want to see the staircase,” I said.
Rebecca frowned.
“Claire, you should rest.”
“I need to know exactly where she stood.”
We entered the kitchen.
Nothing had been moved.
The police had preserved everything.
I stared at the staircase.
Then I noticed something strange.
A small camera was mounted above the bookshelf.
I had never seen it before.
“What's that?”
Rebecca looked up.
“A security camera.”
My father stepped closer.
“Ryan installed cameras last year.”
“Why?”
Nobody answered.
Rebecca contacted the police.
Within an hour, detectives returned.
They recovered the footage.
The recording showed Diane entering the kitchen twenty-three minutes before my fall.
She checked the staircase.
Then she called someone.
We watched her whisper:
“She'll be home soon.”
Then the video skipped.
The next recording showed Ryan entering.
He stood near the stairs.
He looked directly at the camera.
Then he reached up and turned it slightly away.
My blood ran cold.
“He knew.”
The detective nodded.
“Keep watching.”
Three minutes later, Diane returned.
But she wasn't alone.
A man followed her.
His face was hidden beneath a baseball cap.
He carried a small black case.
My father leaned toward the screen.
“Pause it.”
The detective did.
Dad stared at the man's shoes.
“I know him.”
“Who?”
“Diane's brother.”
Rebecca looked shocked.
“He's still alive?”
Dad nodded.
“He was supposed to be in Arizona.”
The detective enlarged the image.
A second detail became visible.
The man wasn't carrying a weapon.
He was carrying a medical kit.
Inside the kit, police later found sedatives, disposable gloves, and a syringe.
But that wasn't the worst discovery.
Behind the kitchen wall was a hidden panel.
Inside it were copies of old medical files.
Lauren's hospital records.
My medical records.
And a handwritten list.
Names.
Dates.
Amounts.
At the bottom was my name.
Beside it were three words:
“Second attempt pending.”
I stared at the paper.
Someone had planned to hurt me before.
May you like
The fall wasn't the beginning.
It was the second attempt.
