Chapter 8: The Place Lydia Hid
The coordinates led them fifteen miles outside town.
An old abandoned property surrounded by trees.
A place Eleanor had never heard of.
A place Marcus didn’t recognize.
But Brielle did.
The moment the car stopped, she went silent.
Marcus looked at her.
“You’ve been here.””
Brielle stared through the windshield.
“When I was little.””
Eleanor turned.
“You said you never came here.””
“I said I never came here alone.””
The words made Eleanor’s heart ache.
“What is this place?””
Brielle slowly opened the door.
“My mother brought me here once.””
The three of them walked toward the old building.
The paint had peeled away from the wooden walls.
The windows were covered in dust.
The place looked forgotten.
But Brielle knew exactly where she was going.
“She told me this was where she went when she needed to think.””
Marcus looked around.
“Why hide something here?””
“Because nobody would look.””
Eleanor touched the old door.
“Except someone did.””
The lock was broken.
The door was already open.
Marcus immediately stepped in front of them.
“Stay behind me.””
Inside, the air smelled like old wood and dust.
But there was something else.
Something fresh.
Coffee.
Someone had been here recently.
Marcus noticed too.
“He was here.””
Brielle looked around nervously.
“Who?””
“Richard.””
Eleanor felt a chill.
They walked deeper into the building.
A small room sat at the back.
Inside was an old desk.
A chair.
And a single photograph.
Eleanor picked it up.
Her breath stopped.
It was Lydia.
Young.
Smiling.
Holding Brielle as a baby.
On the back was written:
*“For the day she finally understands.””*
Brielle touched the picture.
“She knew.””
“Knew what?”” Marcus asked.
“That I would come here.””
Eleanor looked around.
“Your mother was preparing.””
Brielle nodded.
“She always said if something happened, I needed to remember three things.””
Marcus turned.
“What three things?””
Brielle closed her eyes.
“She loved me.””
A tear rolled down her cheek.
“She wasn’t leaving.””
She looked toward the empty room.
“And I was never the reason.””
Eleanor hugged her.
But Marcus noticed something on the desk.
A small drawer.
Locked.
He pulled it.
Nothing.
Then he saw the key.
The same key Denise had given them.
Brielle stepped back.
“No.””
Marcus looked at her.
“What?””
“That’s the box.””
He opened the drawer.
Inside was a small metal container.
Not a box buried underground.
A box hidden in plain sight.
Eleanor reached for it.
But before she touched it, a sound came from outside.
A car door.
Marcus froze.
Someone was approaching.
He turned off the light.
Everyone became silent.
Footsteps moved toward the building.
Slow.
Confident.
Brielle grabbed Eleanor’s hand.
“No.””
The door opened.
A figure entered.
Not Richard.
A woman.
Older.
Wearing a dark coat.
She looked around.
Then spoke.
“Eleanor?””
Eleanor stepped forward.
“Who are you?””
The woman stared at her.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I’m the person Lydia asked to protect you.””
Marcus stayed cautious.
“Your name?””
The woman hesitated.
Then answered:
“Claire.””
Eleanor searched her memory.
She knew that name.
Lydia had mentioned it once.
Only once.
Twenty years ago.
“Claire?””
The woman nodded.
“Lydia was my sister.””
Everyone froze.
Marcus frowned.
“Lydia never had a sister.””
Claire looked at him.
“She didn’t tell you because she was protecting you.””
Brielle stepped forward.
“Why are you here?””
Claire looked at the metal box.
“Because Richard found the other one.””
Eleanor’s heart dropped.
“Other one?””
Claire nodded.
“There were two boxes.””
Marcus looked confused.
“Why?””
Claire’s voice became quiet.
“One held the truth.””
She looked at Eleanor.
“The other held proof.””
Brielle stared.
“And Richard has the proof?””
Claire nodded.
“Yes.””
The room became colder.
Eleanor looked at the box in Marcus’s hands.
“What’s inside this one?””
Claire looked afraid.
“Answers.””
A pause.
“And a warning.””
Marcus opened the box.
Inside was a stack of documents.
A small recorder.
And one final photograph.
Eleanor picked it up.
Her hands began shaking.
Because in the picture was Lydia.
Standing beside someone.
Someone Eleanor knew.
Someone she never expected.
May you like
Claire whispered:
“That photo is why Lydia disappeared.””
