Chapter 7 - The Unanswered Call
The shrill ringing of the landline telephone cut through the tense atmosphere of the grand hallway like a knife. Nobody moved for a second. The sound felt completely unnatural in a house that was now effectively a crime scene, echoing off the high vaulted ceilings and polished marble floors.
Detective Miller cast a sharp glance at the vintage telephone resting on the small mahogany table before stepping over and lifting the heavy receiver.
“Detective Miller,” she announced firmly, placing her ear against the plastic.
A heavy crackle of static hissed through the line, followed by a deep, distorted laugh that made the hairs on the back of Detective Miller’s neck stand up.
“You think putting cuffs on Julian solves anything, Detective?” a raspy, unfamiliar voice sneered through the speaker. “The boy in the black suit is just a puppet. If that little girl opens that journal, the real foundation of this city won't just crack—it will burn to the ground.”
“Identify yourself!” Detective Miller demanded, turning sharply so she could keep her eyes on Lily and the maid. “Trace this call now!” she hissed quietly to the junior officer standing near the door.
The officer frantically pulled out a tablet, tapping the screen with sweaty fingers, but a red error message popped up instantly. Proxy routing detected. Signal lost.
“Tell the girl with the pink backpack to check the very last page,” the voice rasped before the line clicked dead with a sharp dial tone.
Detective Miller lowered the receiver slowly, her face pale. She turned back to face Lily, who was still clutching the worn leather-bound journal against her pink dress. The white teddy bear keychain on Lily’s backpack seemed to sway in the draft blowing in from the slightly cracked front door.
“Lily,” the detective said, her voice laced with a newfound urgency. “Who else knew about this journal? Did your mother ever mention anyone else working with her before she partnered with Julian Vance?”
Lily shook her head slowly, her light brown pigtails brushing against her shoulders.
“Mommy said she used to work for a kind grandfatherly man who owned the entire estate before Julian tricked him out of it,” Lily answered, her small brow furrowed in concentration. “His name was Arthur. Arthur Pendelton.”
Detective Miller froze. The color drained completely from the officer’s face. Arthur Pendelton hadn't just been an old architect; he was the billionaire founder of the city's largest urban development firm, who had mysteriously vanished twenty years ago, leaving his entire empire to his young, ambitious protégé—Julian Vance.
“That’s impossible,” Detective Miller muttered under her breath. “Arthur Pendelton died in a fire decades ago.”
“He didn't die,” a frail, gravelly voice echoed from the shadows of the sweeping staircase.
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Everyone whipped around. Standing on the landing, leaning heavily on an ornate wooden cane, was an elderly man wrapped in a dark woolen coat, his face half-hidden beneath the shadow of a fedora.
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