Chapter Two — The Room Upstairs

Mara spent the next morning searching the house.

She began with the attic.

Her mother had locked it for years.

The key was still hidden inside an old porcelain bird on Evelyn’s desk.

Mara found it easily.

Inside the attic, dust covered everything.

Boxes.

Christmas decorations.

Old furniture.

Family photographs.

She opened one box after another.

Then she found a small wooden suitcase.

Inside were children’s clothes.

A red sweater.

A pair of blue shoes.

A toy boat.

Mara dropped the boat.

Her hands began shaking.

On the bottom of the suitcase was a hospital bracelet.

JULIAN VENN — AGE 6

Mara sat on the floor.

Six years old.

Not an infant.

Not a baby who died before she was born.

Julian had been six.

And she had been eight.

A sound came from behind her.

Mara turned.

Her mother stood in the doorway.

“What are you doing?”

Mara held up the bracelet.

“You lied to me.”

Evelyn didn’t move.

“About Julian.”

Her mother’s face remained calm.

“You were a child.”

“I remember him.”

“You remember what you were told to remember.”

“No.”

Mara stepped toward her.

“I remember the lake.”

Evelyn’s expression finally cracked.

“Stop.”

“What happened that night?”

“Stop.”

“Did Julian drown?”

Her mother looked away.

“No.”

The answer was almost a whisper.

Mara froze.

“What?”

“He didn’t drown.”

“Then where is he?”

Evelyn said nothing.

Mara followed her downstairs.

“Where is my brother?”

Her mother walked into the kitchen.

“Some questions destroy families.”

“Maybe this family deserves to be destroyed.”

Evelyn turned.

For the first time, Mara saw fear in her mother’s eyes.

“You should leave Bellweather.”

“Why?”

“Because Elise Hart isn’t the only girl who disappeared.”

Mara’s heart began pounding.

“What are you saying?”

Evelyn looked toward the window.

“There was another.”

“Who?”

“Your sister.”

Mara stared at her.

“What?”

“Claire didn’t die in an accident.”

The room seemed to tilt.

Claire.

Mara’s older sister.

The perfect daughter.

The beautiful girl whose portrait dominated the hallway.

The girl everyone said had fallen from a cliff at seventeen.

“What happened to Claire?”

Evelyn’s voice dropped.

“She found Julian.”

That evening, Mara returned to the police station.

Cole listened without interrupting.

When she finished, he sat back.

“You’re saying your mother believes your sister’s death was connected to Julian?”

“I don’t know what I believe.”

Cole opened an old file.

“We never closed Claire’s case.”

Mara looked at him.

“You said it was an accident.”

“That’s what the evidence suggested.”

“What changed?”

“Nothing.”

He pushed a photograph across the desk.

It showed Claire’s body being carried from the forest.

Mara stared at the picture.

There was something behind Claire.

A small wooden structure.

Almost hidden between the trees.

“What is that?”

Cole leaned closer.

“A hunting cabin.”

“Whose?”

“No one knows.”

Mara looked at him.

“Take me there.”

The cabin stood deep inside the pine forest.

Its windows were boarded.

The door was half-rotten.

Inside, the air smelled of damp wood.

Mara moved slowly through the darkness.

Then she saw the wall.

Hundreds of names had been carved into it.

Girls’ names.

Dates.

Initials.

Some were decades old.

Cole whispered:

“This wasn’t in the original investigation.”

Mara touched one name.

CLAIRE VENN — 2008

Below it:

JULIAN VENN — 2006

And beneath those:

REBECCA LANE — 2024

LILY MERCER — 2025

ELISE HART — 2026

Mara stepped backward.

“No.”

Something moved upstairs.

Cole drew his weapon.

They climbed the narrow staircase.

At the top was a small bedroom.

There was a mattress.

A desk.

A collection of newspaper clippings.

And photographs.

Mara’s photographs.

Her childhood.

Her school.

Her mother’s house.

Claire.

Julian.

Elise.

Someone had been watching her for years.

Then Cole noticed a hidden door behind a wardrobe.

They opened it.

A narrow staircase descended underground.

At the bottom was a room filled with boxes.

And one chair.

On the chair sat a cassette recorder.

Mara pressed PLAY.

Static filled the room.

Then a child’s voice whispered:

“Mara?”

She stopped breathing.

The voice continued.

“You promised you’d come back.”

Mara dropped the recorder.

Cole stared at her.

“You know that voice?”

Mara could barely speak.

“Yes.”

“Whose is it?”

She looked toward the darkness.

“My brother.”