Chapter 3 - Shadows On The Third-Story Ledge
The photograph on Julian’s phone was not a generic stock image; the timestamp read 11:42 PM, exactly forty seconds ago. Julian’s breath caught in his throat. He looked at the background of the picture, identifying the distinct wrought-iron scrollwork of the third-story balcony outside the nursery. Without a second thought, he unlocked the heavy oak door of his study and sprinted down the dimly lit hallway, his polished dress shoes clicking sharply against the polished hardwood floor.
He reached the nursery door in seconds, his hand trembling as he twisted the brass doorknob. It gave way easily. He pushed it open, bursting into the room with his fists clenched, ready for a fight.
Sarah jumped, dropping a folded blanket onto the floral rug. Lily was already tucked under the floral duvet, her breathing slow and even as she drifted into an exhausted sleep, her tear-stained cheeks still smudged with pink frosting.
"Mr. Vance? Is everything alright?" Sarah asked, her voice shaking with residual fear from the party downstairs.
Julian scanned the room rapidly. He crossed the floor in three long strides, bypassed the terrified nanny, and yanked the heavy velvet drapes apart. He threw the window latch and pushed the glass panel outward into the cold night air. The wind whipped his dark hair across his forehead. He leaned out over the iron railing, scanning the dark expanse of the third-story ledge.
Nothing. The stone terrace was completely empty, slick with a light layer of midnight dew. There were no footprints, no ladder, and no masked figure. Just the dark silhouettes of the sprawling oak trees swaying in the courtyard far below.
"Mr. Vance, you're scaring me," Sarah whispered from the center of the room.
"Lock this window, Sarah. Do not open it again tonight, no matter what you hear," Julian commanded, his voice tight and breathless.
He pulled his head back inside, slammed the window shut, and engaged the heavy brass lock. His phone vibrated in his tuxedo pocket once more. He pulled it out slowly, half-expecting another haunting photograph. Instead, it was an alphanumeric code accompanied by a short audio clip. He pressed play, turning the volume down low to avoid waking Lily.
A synthesized, metallic voice whispered through the tiny speaker, cutting straight to Julian’s deepest, most well-guarded secret.
"You can lock the windows, Julian, but you cannot lock away the truth about the fire in Chicago."
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Julian froze, the phone slipping slightly in his sweating palm as the ghost of a past he had buried fifteen years ago clawed its way back into the light.
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