Chapter 6 - The Blue Room
Miriam didn't deny it.
That surprised me.
“Children remember fragments,” she said. “Adults build stories around them.”
“You drugged them.”
“Nothing dangerous.”
Claire lunged.
I caught her before she reached Miriam.
“Let me go!”
“Not yet.”
Miriam remained strangely calm.
“Ask why Catherine created the blue room.”
I did.
Her answer changed the shape of the conspiracy.
The blue room wasn't originally a prison.
It was designed for interviews.
Children from dangerous homes were brought there to speak without parents present.
Catherine wanted to know whether the children were actually afraid or whether adults were manipulating custody claims.
A reasonable idea.
Until Mercer realized frightened children could become leverage.
He began recording interviews.
Editing them.
Selling them.
Threatening powerful parents with exposure.
Sometimes he created evidence when real evidence didn't exist.
Blackmail disguised as child protection.
“And Catherine discovered it?”
“Yes.”
“Then you killed her.”
“No.”
Miriam smiled.
“Catherine discovered it because she helped design it.”
Silence.
I looked at Ethan.
He had heard.
“Mom?”
Miriam nodded.
“Your wife wasn't innocent, Alexander.”
I hated her for saying it.
Mostly because I suspected she was right.
Catherine had helped build the surveillance system.
Originally, she wanted evidence against dangerous men.
Then Mercer pushed further.
Eventually Catherine tried to destroy everything.
Too late.
“Where is Mercer?”
Miriam said nothing.
I stepped closer.
“Where?”
She looked toward the girls.
“Ask Lucy.”
Claire stiffened.
Lucy stared at the floor.
“What does she mean?”
The oldest girl started crying.
“I'm sorry, Mommy.”
She removed something from her coat.
A phone.
Not Claire's.
Mercer's.
“He gave it to me.”
“When?”
“At school.”
Mercer had instructed Lucy to keep it hidden.
If anything frightened them, press one button.
She had pressed it inside the café.
Not to call Mercer.
To call “Uncle Michael.”
Claire stopped breathing.
“Michael?”
The phone rang.
Everyone stared.
Lucy answered.
A man's voice came through.
“Lucy?”
Claire collapsed into a chair.
She knew the voice.
“Michael?”
Silence.
Then:
“Claire.”
She started crying.
“You're alive.”
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
“Don't ask.”
“Those are your daughters!”
“I know.”
“Then come home!”
His voice broke.
“I can't.”
I took the phone.
“Michael.”
Long silence.
“Hello, brother.”
Twenty-two years since I had heard his voice.
“You're supposed to be dead.”
“So were several people in this family.”
Fair.
“Mercer has your daughters.”
“No. Mercer thinks he has them.”
“What does that mean?”
Michael had infiltrated Mercer's organization years ago.
His disappearance wasn't escape.
It was undercover work.
He had spent years collecting evidence.
“Why not come to me?”
“Because Catherine didn't trust you.”
That hurt.
Again.
“Do you?”
Another silence.
“I didn't.”
Past tense.
“Now?”
“I watched what you did in the café.”
My eyes moved toward the four girls.
“They chose you before they knew who you were.”
Michael continued.
“That matters.”
Then his voice changed.
“Alexander, get everyone out of your house.”
“Why?”
“Mercer doesn't want Claire anymore.”
Pause.
“He wants Ethan.”
The mansion alarm sounded.
I turned.
Ethan was gone.
On the floor where he'd been standing lay one cream-colored ribbon.
May you like
And beneath it—
a photograph of my son sitting inside the blue room.
