Chapter 1 - A Bedroom Left Untouched
The brass key hit the hardwood floor.
My seven-year-old son, Leo, dropped it.
He stared at his grandmother with wide, terrified eyes.
"Don't tell Dad," Leo whispered.
My mother, Eleanor, snatched the key off the floor.
Her hands were shaking.
I stood in the doorway of Leo's bedroom.
My wife, Sarah, was standing right beside me.
We had just returned from my brother Marcus's funeral.
Marcus had been missing for six years.
His empty car was found near the river yesterday.
The police had declared him dead.
My mother had cried all morning.
Now, she was glaring at my seven-year-old son.
"Where did you get that key, Leo?" I asked.
Leo hid his hands behind his back.
"Uncle Marcus gave it to me," Leo said.
My heart stopped beating.
Marcus had been missing for six years.
Leo was only seven years old.
"That's impossible," I said.
"Marcus disappeared before you were born," I said.
Leo looked up at my wife.
"Mom saw him too," Leo said.
Sarah gasped and took a step back.
Her face lost all color.
"He's confused, David," Sarah said quickly.
"He's just a child," she added.
My mother shoved the brass key into her coat pocket.
"The boy is telling stories," Eleanor said coldly.
"We need to focus on the funeral arrangements," she said.
She pushed past me into the hallway.
I looked at my wife.
Sarah would not look me in the eye.
She walked over to Leo's bed.
She began straightening the pillows.
Her fingers were trembling uncontrollably.
I walked over to Leo.
I knelt down in front of him.
"Leo, when did you see Uncle Marcus?" I asked.
"Last night," Leo whispered.
"He came to my window," Leo said.
"He said grandma was keeping a secret," Leo added.
I felt a cold shiver down my spine.
Our house was two stories high.
Leo's window was above the back porch roof.
"Did he say anything else?" I asked.
Leo pointed at the wooden desk in the corner.
"He told me to check the bottom drawer," Leo said.
Sarah dropped the pillow she was holding.
"David, stop this," Sarah begged.
"You are scaring the boy," she said.
"Are you scared, Sarah?" I asked.
"Of course I'm upset," she said.
"Your brother is dead," she said.
"And our son is talking about ghosts," she added.
I walked over to the wooden desk.
It was an old desk from my childhood.
Marcus and I had shared it years ago.
I pulled open the bottom drawer.
It was filled with old crayons and notebooks.
I reached all the way to the back.
My fingers touched a piece of rough tape.
Something was taped underneath the top frame.
I pulled it hard.
A small black cassette tape fell into my hand.
Written on the plastic was a date.
It was dated three days ago.
Three days ago, Marcus was supposed to be dead.
I held the cassette tape in my palm.
"What is that?" Sarah asked.
Her voice was barely a whisper.
"It's a recording," I said.
I looked at my wife's pale face.
"Did you know Marcus was alive?" I asked.
Sarah took a step back toward the door.
"No," she said.
"I swear I didn't know," she said.
Leo looked at me with sad eyes.
"Mom gave him food last week," Leo said.
The room went completely silent.
I turned slowly to face my wife.
"You fed my missing brother?" I asked.
"You knew he was alive?" I asked.
Sarah burst into tears.
"He threatened me, David!" she cried.
"He said he would ruin our family!" she shouted.
"Ruin us how?" I asked.
Before Sarah could answer, the front door slammed downstairs.
Heavy footsteps hurried up the wooden staircase.
My mother stepped back into the room.
She held a metal lockbox in her hands.
"Give me that tape, David," Eleanor said.
Her voice was firm and cold.
"No," I said.
"Marcus was my brother," I said.
"He was my son," Eleanor said.
"And he was out of his mind," she added.
"He was hiding in our town," I said.
"And you both knew," I said.
"He was trying to protect you," Sarah said softly.
I looked between my mother and my wife.
Two women I trusted completely.
Both of them had been lying to me.
"Protect me from what?" I demanded.
"From the truth about this house," Eleanor said.
She unlocked the metal box in her hands.
Inside was a yellowed envelope.
She pulled out an old newspaper clipping.
The headline read: LOCAL FACTORY FIRE DECLARED ACCIDENTAL.
The date was twenty years ago.
My father had died in that factory fire.
I was twelve years old back then.
Marcus was fourteen.
We were told my father died saving workers.
"What does Dad's fire have to do with Marcus?" I asked.
"Your father didn't die saving workers," Eleanor said.
"He started the fire," she said.
"For the insurance money," she added.
I felt like the floor was falling away.
"That's a lie," I said.
"Marcus found the proof six years ago," Eleanor said.
"He wanted to report it," she said.
"It would have destroyed our family name," she said.
"It would have taken this house," she added.
"So you chased him away?" I asked.
"I paid him to leave," Eleanor said.
"I gave him money to stay silent," she admitted.
"And what about last week?" I asked.
"Why did he come back?" I asked.
Sarah walked over and touched my arm.
"He came back because he was dying, David," Sarah said.
"He had severe kidney failure," she said.
"He came back to make peace with you," she added.
"Then where is he now?" I asked.
"He's gone, David," Sarah wept.
"His car was found in the river," she said.
"He didn't make it," she said.
I looked down at the cassette tape in my hand.
"If he came to make peace, why leave this?" I asked.
I walked down the hallway to my study.
I had an old tape recorder on my desk.
My mother and wife followed close behind me.
Leo stood at the end of the hall, watching.
I slid the cassette into the player.
I pressed play.
Static filled the small room.
Then a familiar voice came through the speaker.
It was Marcus.
His voice was weak and breathless.
"David, if you are hearing this, I am already gone," he said.
"Don't believe what Mother tells you," Marcus said.
"Dad didn't start that fire," Marcus said.
"Mother started it," Marcus said.
"And she is trying to do it again," Marcus added.
I stared at the tape player in total shock.
I turned around to look at my mother.
May you like
Eleanor was standing in the doorway.
She was holding a heavy glass vase.
