Chapter 3 - The Secret in the WallsThe scream wasn't coming from the twins' bedroom. It was coming from the west wing—an abandoned section of the mansion that had been sealed off since the day Lauren died.
Kevin bolted out of the study, his long legs eating up the corridor. Annie was right behind him, moving with surprising speed. By the time they reached the heavy double doors of the west wing, the door was ajar, fluttering in a cold draft that shouldn't have been there.
"Stay back," Kevin ordered, his hand instinctively reaching into his jacket pocket before remembering he had left his legal firearm in the safe.
He pushed the door open. The beam of his phone flashlight cut through the darkness, illuminating dust motes dancing in the stale air. The west wing had been Lauren’s private studio—her painting room, her sanctuary. Kevin hadn't entered it since her funeral. Everything was draped in white dust sheets.
Except for the easel in the center of the room.
The dust sheet had been pulled off. A canvas sat exposed in the moonlight pouring through the tall Gothic windows.
Standing in front of the easel was Jordan. The five-year-old was holding a jar of black acrylic paint, his small hands dripping with dark pigment. He was staring blankly at the painting on the canvas—a portrait of Lauren smiling in the garden. Across her face, crude, frantic strokes of black paint had been smeared, obliterating her eyes and mouth.
"Jordan!" Kevin gasped, horror gripping his chest. "Drop the jar."
The boy didn't drop it. He slowly turned his head, his face smeared with black paint, looking less like a child and more like a ghost. "She told us to do it," Jordan whispered.
Kevin froze. "Who told you?"
"The lady in the green coat," Justin chimed in, appearing out of the shadows near the doorway, clutching his favorite stuffed rabbit. "She lives in the walls, Daddy. She says Mommy didn't die in a car crash. She says someone cut the brakes."
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Kevin staggered back against the wood-paneled wall, the air rushing out of his lungs.
Annie pushed past Kevin, dropping to her knees in front of Jordan without a hint of fear. She gently took the paint jar from his sticky fingers, setting it aside, and pulled out a clean handkerchief to wipe his face.
"Nobody lives in the walls, sweetheart," Annie said softly, her voice a soothing balm in the terrifying gloom of the room. "The house is just old. It creaks when the wind blows from the river. And sometimes, when we miss someone very much, our brains play tricks on us."
"It wasn't a trick," Jordan sobbed, throwing his arms around Annie's neck and burying his face in her shoulder. "The lady wears green. She watches us from the garden window every night. She told us Dad knows the truth."
Kevin felt a cold sweat break out across the back of his neck. The lady in the green coat.
Lauren had owned a distinctive emerald-green cashmere coat. It was currently locked in the cedar chest in the master bedroom closet. Nobody else had access to it. Or so Kevin had believed.
Annie held the twins close, looking up at Kevin over their small heads. In the moonlight, her eyes held a chilling certainty. "Mr. Morrison, when was the last time you actually read the police report from the night of your wife's accident?"
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Kevin swallowed hard, his throat dry as sand. "The detective said it was a tragic accident. A truck lost control on the Saw Mill River Parkway. The driver was drunk."
"Detectives close files when they're paid to look away," Annie said quietly, standing up with Jordan in her arms and gesturing for Justin to take her hand. "Let's put the boys back to bed. Then I'll show you what's really hidden in this house."
