Chapter 3: Beneath the Pool
Ethan stopped breathing.
For one long second, the only sound in the room was the faint electrical hum from the speaker.
Then he whispered, “She's dead.””
I turned toward him.
“Who?””
He didn't answer.
I stepped closer.
“Who is buried under the pool?””
Ethan backed into the steel door.
His face had gone gray.
“You don't understand.””
“I understand enough.””
“No.””
He shook his head.
“You really don't.””
The speaker crackled.
The woman laughed softly.
“Tell him, Ethan.””
“Shut up!””
His voice exploded through the room.
I had never heard him sound like that.
Not angry.
Not arrogant.
Afraid.
“Who are you?”” I demanded.
“Someone who survived.””
“Survived what?””
Silence.
Then:
“Your daughter knows.””
My stomach tightened.
“Where is Claire?””
“Not here.””
“Where?””
“She's trying to get to you.””
Ethan grabbed the speaker box from the wall and ripped at the wires.
The woman spoke over him.
“Careful.””
He froze.
“You break that system,” she continued, “and the doors upstairs lock permanently.””
Ethan stepped away.
I stared at him.
“You're trapped too.””
He didn't answer.
That told me enough.
I looked at the steel door.
“Who built this room?””
“My father.””
“When?””
“Twenty years ago.””
“For what?””
Ethan swallowed.
“For keeping people quiet.””
The words landed harder than any punch.
I stepped toward the table.
The photographs were still spread across it.
Claire.
Me.
My house.
And dozens of images I didn't recognize.
Women.
Always women.
Some looked terrified.
Some were bruised.
Some had been photographed through doorways.
One picture showed a young woman sitting on the edge of the pool.
Dark hair.
Green eyes.
The same woman from the portrait upstairs.
I lifted it.
“This is your first wife.””
Ethan stared at the photograph.
“Yes.””
“What was her name?””
His lips trembled.
“Emily.””
The speaker crackled.
“Emily Vale.””
I looked at the camera.
“Did you kill her?””
“No.””
Ethan answered too quickly.
The woman laughed.
“You still lie beautifully.””
Ethan slammed both hands against the steel door.
“Tell him the truth!””
“I've been trying to.””
“Then open the door!””
“You know I can't.””
My eyes narrowed.
“Why not?””
The woman's voice went quiet.
“Because Ethan isn't the one controlling this house anymore.””
I looked at Ethan.
He slowly turned.
“What does that mean?””
“You'll find out.””
“Open the door!””
“Find the blue room.””
Then the speaker clicked off.
Silence.
I turned to Ethan.
“What blue room?””
“I don't know.””
“You're lying again.””
“No.””
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“I don't know.””
I walked past him.
“Then start remembering.””
“There isn't a blue room.””
“Then why did she mention it?””
“Because she wants you to think there is.””
I looked at the ceiling.
“Or because she wants me to find it.””
Ethan said nothing.
I crouched beside the mattress.
There were scratches in the concrete.
Deep.
Old.
Somebody had tried to dig into the floor with their fingernails.
Then I noticed something beneath the mattress.
A brass key.
I pulled it out.
One word had been etched into the metal.
*BLUE.*
I held it up.
Ethan closed his eyes.
“Oh God.””
“You know where it goes.””
“I haven't seen that key in years.””
“Where?””
He looked at the steel door.
Then at me.
“There's an old service corridor beneath the west wing.””
“How do we get there?””
“We can't.””
“Why?””
“Because the corridor was sealed.””
“By whom?””
“My father.””
I grabbed his shirt.
“Take me there.””
He stared at my hand.
“Let go.””
“Take me there.””
“You think this is going to save Claire?””
I shoved him against the wall.
“You tell me where my daughter is.””
His voice cracked.
“I don't know.””
“Then start walking.””
He stared at me for several seconds.
Finally, he nodded.
“There might be another exit.””
He pulled a small keycard from his wallet.
We found a concealed panel behind the sink.
A soft click.
The wall shifted.
Behind it was a narrow passage barely wide enough for one person.
We moved through it.
The air was colder there.
Damp.
The concrete walls were unfinished.
Pipes ran overhead.
Every few feet, a small red light blinked.
Security cameras.
I counted seven before the corridor turned.
“Your father built all this?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“My family used to host political dinners here.””
“That doesn't explain a tunnel system.””
“No.””
Ethan swallowed.
“He liked having rooms no one knew existed.””
We reached a fork.
One path went left.
The other descended.
A faint mechanical buzzing came from below.
I pointed.
“What's down there?””
“Mechanical room.””
“Take me there.””
We descended.
At the bottom, a steel door stood open.
Beyond it was a control room.
Monitors covered one wall.
Most showed empty hallways.
One displayed the front gate.
Another showed the driveway.
Another showed the pool.
I froze.
The pool camera showed something I had not noticed from outside.
A section of the stone deck had been removed.
A rectangle of fresh concrete surrounded a metal access hatch.
Someone had opened it recently.
I turned toward Ethan.
“What is that?””
He didn't answer.
“What is under the pool?””
“Nothing.””
I grabbed his shoulder.
“Don't lie to me again.””
He looked at the monitor.
Then whispered:
“An old foundation.””
“You said your first wife was buried there.””
“She wasn't supposed to be.””
My blood ran cold.
“What does that mean?””
Ethan looked at the control panel.
“There was an accident.””
“That's not what she said.””
“She doesn't know everything.””
“Neither do you.””
He flinched.
Then one of the monitors changed.
The pool camera went black.
All the monitors flickered.
A message appeared across every screen.
*YOU SHOULD HAVE COME ALONE.*
I looked at Ethan.
He looked terrified.
“Who has access to this system?””
“No one.””
The message disappeared.
Another appeared.
*CLAIRE ISN'T THE FIRST DAUGHTER HE TOOK.*
I stared.
Then another line appeared.
*SHE WON'T BE THE LAST.*
I stepped toward the screens.
“What does that mean?””
Ethan said nothing.
I grabbed him by the collar.
“Who are the other daughters?””
He closed his eyes.
“I don't know.””
I shook him.
“Who?””
“My father had associates.””
“What associates?””
“Men with money.””
“Names.””
“I don't remember all of them.””
“You'd better.””
A noise came from somewhere above us.
Three heavy knocks.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
We both looked toward the ceiling.
“Someone's at the pool,” Ethan whispered.
I ran.
We flew back through the corridor.
When we reached the hidden passage, the lights began shutting off behind us.
One.
Then another.
Then another.
Darkness chased us down the tunnel.
Ethan ran faster.
I followed.
We burst into the main hall.
The mansion had changed.
Doors stood open.
Furniture had been overturned.
A vase lay shattered on the marble floor.
And there were drops of blood leading toward the rear doors.
I followed them.
They stopped at the pool.
The patio was empty.
Except for the open hatch.
I crouched beside it.
A ladder descended into darkness.
“Claire!””
No answer.
Ethan stood behind me.
“Don't go down there.””
I turned.
“Why?””
“Because if she's down there…”
He stopped.
“If she's down there, what?””
His face collapsed.
“You'll see.””
I climbed down.
The tunnel beneath the pool was narrow and wet.
Concrete walls.
Electrical cables.
Old pipes.
The smell of chlorine faded.
Something else replaced it.
Earth.
And rot.
At the bottom, my flashlight landed on a woman's shoe.
I stopped.
White.
Small.
Half buried in dirt.
There were bones beside it.
Human.
Female.
I looked at Ethan.
He was standing halfway down the ladder.
His hands were shaking.
“Emily?”” I whispered.
He didn't answer.
I moved farther into the tunnel.
There was a second shoe.
A length of chain.
A silver bracelet.
And scratched into the concrete wall, deep enough to remain visible after years:
*I WASN'T THE FIRST.*
Then I heard breathing.
Not behind me.
Ahead.
I raised the flashlight.
A figure was crouched at the end of the tunnel.
Female.
Barefoot.
Hair covering her face.
I took one slow step.
“Claire?””
The woman lifted her head.
It wasn't Claire.
She was older.
Her face was bruised and gaunt.
But I recognized her.
The face from the portrait.
The face from the photographs.
The face Ethan had just told me belonged to his dead first wife.
Her eyes met mine.
She pressed one finger to her lips.
“Don't let him hear us.””
Ethan screamed from behind me.
“No!””
The woman looked past my shoulder.
Her expression changed.
“Jack…”
I froze.
She knew my name.
She reached into the darkness beside her and pulled someone forward.
My daughter.
Claire.
Alive.
Bleeding.
Barely standing.
“Dad…”
I rushed toward her.
Then the lights above us snapped on.
A heavy metal gate crashed down behind me.
Trapping me in the tunnel.
May you like
And from somewhere in the darkness ahead, a man's voice whispered:
“Colonel Mercer, welcome to the part of the house your daughter was never supposed to find.””
