Chapter 4 - The Clock That Stopped
"That clock hasn't missed a beat in fifty years," Arthur murmured, his hand dropping from Elena's shoulder as he walked slowly toward the towering wooden timepiece.
"It's just a power surge, Dad. The police probably tripped the main circuit breakers outside when they secured the property," Elena said, trying to steady her breathing while pulling a light cardigan over her torn silk dress.
"No, Elena. The digital security displays are still running on backup battery power, but look at the second hand," Arthur pointed out, tapping the heavy glass door of the antique clock.
The brass second hand was wedged firmly between the numbers eleven and twelve, perfectly frozen, casting a distorted reflection of their pale, strained faces.
Suddenly, a loud, heavy thud echoed from the upper floor, sounding precisely like a heavy suitcase being dropped onto the hardwood flooring of the master bedroom.
"Did you leave someone else upstairs?" Arthur asked, his body instantly tensing into a defensive stance despite his age.
"No. Just the nanny and Lily, and they were supposed to be packing in the nursery on the east wing," Elena whispered, her eyes fixed on the grand curved staircase disappearing into the gloomy shadows above.
A soft, eerie sound drifted down the stairwell—the unmistakable humming of a child's lullaby, but it was being sung in a low, raspy adult voice that neither of them recognized.
"Stay right behind me," Arthur ordered quietly, reaching inside his dark jacket to grip an old-fashioned brass key he used to secure his private safe.
They crept up the stairs together, the expensive wool runner muffling their footsteps until they reached the landing. The door to the master bedroom stood slightly ajar, a sliver of pale moonlight cutting across the unmade king-sized bed.
Elena pushed the heavy wooden door open with a gentle nudge, her breath catching in her throat as she peered into the dark room.
Sitting right in the center of the unmade bed was a small, dusty leather suitcase that definitely did not belong to Liam, nor had it been there when they arrived at the villa.
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Arthur stepped into the room first, his boots clicking softly on the floorboards as he reached out and slowly flipped the rusty brass latches of the mysterious suitcase open.
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