Chapter 8 - The Silver Angel
We reached the living room through a hidden grate behind the fireplace.
Smoke rolled along the ceiling.
The antique Christmas tree leaned where someone had searched through its branches.
Broken ornaments covered the floor.
Rebecca’s men were tearing decorations apart.
Daniel handed Emma to Cole.
“Take her to the front hall.”
Cole shook his head.
“The exits are sealed.”
I spotted the silver angel near the top of the tree.
One man reached for it.
I grabbed a fireplace poker and struck his arm.
The angel fell.
Daniel caught it before it hit the floor.
The second man drew his weapon.
Cole fired first.
The shot hit the man’s shoulder.
Relatives screamed from behind the locked dining-room doors.
Daniel twisted the angel’s base.
A brass key slid out.
Richard entered from the hallway.
He looked at the key.
For the first time, true fear appeared on his face.
“Give it to me.”
I stepped back.
“You knew my mother hid it.”
“I suspected.”
“Is this why you kept inviting us here every Christmas?”
He said nothing.
Twenty-three Christmas mornings.
Twenty-three chances for my buried memory to return.
The archive was hidden somewhere inside the mansion.
Rebecca spoke over the security system.
“The key opens the chapel vault.”
There was no chapel in the house.
Richard looked toward the west wall.
Daniel noticed.
“The old music room.”
Richard had converted a private chapel into a music room after purchasing the estate.
We moved toward it.
The gas alarm began sounding.
Rebecca had activated the fire-suppression system in the lower floors.
Cole led Emma and the relatives toward an upstairs balcony where windows could be broken.
Daniel and I entered the music room with Richard behind us.
A grand piano stood beneath stained-glass windows.
The brass key fit a small lock beneath the keyboard.
The piano moved away from the wall.
Stone steps descended into darkness.
Richard whispered, “Claire, do not open that vault.”
“You murdered my mother to keep it closed.”
“Your mother is not dead.”
I turned slowly.
“What?”
“She survived the crash.”
“Where is she?”
“Inside the archive.”
Daniel stared at him.
“You kept her imprisoned for twenty-three years?”
Richard shook his head.
“She chose to remain.”
No part of that sounded possible.
We descended.
At the bottom stood a circular steel door.
The silver angel fit into its center.
Before I turned it, Rebecca stepped from the shadows behind us.
She held a gun.
“Open it.”
Daniel moved in front of me.
Rebecca pointed the weapon toward his chest.
“You mourned me beautifully,” she said.
He looked at her as though he no longer recognized the woman he once loved.
“You died long before the funeral.”
Her smile vanished.
I inserted the key.
The vault opened.
Cold white light spilled into the corridor.
Inside, a woman sat before a wall of monitors.
Her hair was silver.
Her face was thin.
But I knew her.
“Mom?”
She looked at me.
May you like
Then at Richard.
“You finally brought my daughter back.”
