Chapter 10 - The Bricked-Up Archive
The rain lashed violently against the shattered window pane, sending cold drafts sweeping down the dark hallway. Police officers swarmed the upper landing, shouting orders into their radios, but Jonathan stood motionless near the nursery door, his hand tightly clutching the heavy brass key in his pocket. Arthur had vanished into the stormy night like a phantom, leaving behind only broken glass and a trail of muddy footprints.
"Mr. Vance, are you alright?" Detective Miller asked, jogging up the stairs with his flashlight beam sweeping across the floor. "We heard a disturbance. Was that your brother?"
Jonathan turned slowly, his face carved from stone. "My brother died five years ago, Detective. Or at least, that's what the death certificate said."
Miller’s expression hardened instantly. He signaled two officers to secure the perimeter. "We found a secondary access hatch leading from the basement service tunnels. Whoever was up here had an escape route planned down to the second."
Jonathan didn't answer. He turned on his heel and walked briskly down the hallway, bypassing the police activity and heading straight toward the grand staircase. He descended past the very spot where Eleanor had fallen three months ago, ignoring the yellow crime scene tape that still fluttered weakly in the draft.
He reached the ground floor, pushed open the heavy service door, and descended the steep, winding concrete stairs leading deep into the bowels of the mansion. The air grew damp and heavy, smelling of old dust and rotting mortar.
At the very end of the subterranean corridor stood a heavy iron-reinforced wooden door—the entrance to the bricked-up basement archive that hadn't been opened since the estate was built over a century ago.
Jonathan stepped up to the door. The ancient padlock was gone, replaced by a modern digital keypad that glowed with a faint, pulsing red light. Arthur hadn't just known about this room; he had been using it as an operational base right beneath their feet.
Jonathan pulled the heavy brass key from his pocket, but paused when he noticed a small keyhole hidden beneath the keypad panel. He inserted the key and turned it with a sharp, echoing click.
The digital keypad flashed green, and the heavy iron door slowly swung inward, releasing a cloud of dust and revealing a dimly lit room lined with rows of filing cabinets and a single computer terminal humming softly in the dark.
Jonathan stepped inside, his flashlight cutting through the gloom. On the central metal desk lay a single, leather-bound diary with a dried bloodstain smeared across the cover—Eleanor’s missing journal.
May you like
Before Jonathan could reach out to pick it up, the heavy iron door slammed shut behind him with a deafening crash, and the deadbolt locked automatically from the outside.
---
