Chapter 8: The Locked Room
Darius was out of the clinic before Marcus could stop him.
“Where are you going?””
“Home.””
“Simone told you not to.””
“She also told me Nia might be in danger.””
Marcus followed.
“Then you're not going alone.””
Darius stopped beside the car.
“You've lied to me enough.””
Marcus shook his head.
“I didn't lie about everything.””
“That's supposed to make me feel better?””
“No.””
Marcus stepped closer.
“I know what happened the night Simone disappeared.””
Darius stared at him.
“You said she disappeared before our wedding.””
“She did.””
“What happened?””
Marcus looked around the empty parking lot.
“She came to my apartment.””
“When?””
“The night before she married you.””
Darius's eyes narrowed.
“Why?””
“She was crying.””
“What did she say?””
Marcus swallowed.
“She said she had found out who had been manipulating her medical records.””
“Who?””
“I never saw the person's face.””
Darius grabbed his coat.
“Then what did you see?””
“A car.””
“What kind?””
“Black SUV.””
Darius froze.
His own vehicle was a black SUV.
Marcus noticed his expression.
“Not yours.””
“How do you know?””
“Because I saw the license plate.””
Darius's phone buzzed.
He looked down.
A security alert from his home system.
*REAR DOOR OPEN.*
His face changed.
Marcus saw it.
“Someone's at your house.””
They got into the SUV.
Darius drove too fast.
The mansion appeared ahead, its bright exterior lights glowing against the night.
But something was wrong.
The front door stood open.
Darius slammed on the brakes.
Marcus grabbed his arm.
“Wait.””
Darius looked at him.
Marcus pointed.
“No lights inside.””
They got out.
Darius moved toward the house.
Marcus followed close behind.
The front door creaked in the wind.
“Stay behind me,” Darius whispered.
They entered.
The celebration had been destroyed.
Chairs overturned.
Champagne glasses shattered across the floor.
Flowers scattered across the dining table.
One of the windows was cracked.
Darius shouted.
“Nia!””
No answer.
“Aunt Renee!””
Nothing.
He ran toward the hallway.
Marcus grabbed him.
“Listen.””
They stopped.
A faint sound came from upstairs.
A child crying.
Darius sprinted up the stairs.
“Nia!””
The crying became louder.
He reached the bedroom.
The door was locked.
“Nia!””
“Daddy!””
Darius's heart nearly stopped.
“I'm here!””
“Daddy, open it!””
He tried the handle.
Locked.
Marcus rushed up behind him.
“Move.””
Together, they slammed against the door.
Once.
Twice.
The lock splintered.
The door flew open.
Nia was inside the room, curled beneath a blanket.
Darius dropped to his knees.
“Baby!””
She ran into his arms.
He held her tightly.
“Where's everybody?””
Nia sobbed.
“They left.””
“Who?””
“I don't know.””
“Where's Simone?””
Nia shook her head.
“She came back.””
Darius pulled away.
“Simone came here?””
“Yes.””
“When?””
“After everyone went outside.””
“What happened?””
Nia wiped her cheeks.
“She told me to hide.””
“Hide from who?””
Nia pointed toward the closet.
Darius stood.
He opened it.
Nothing.
Then he noticed something taped to the inside wall.
A small white envelope.
His name was written across it.
*DARIUS.*
He tore it open.
Inside was a single photograph.
It showed Simone holding Nia as a baby.
Darius stared.
Nia couldn't have been more than a few weeks old.
On the back was a handwritten sentence:
*SHE WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO BE YOUR DAUGHTER.*
Darius's hands trembled.
Marcus stepped closer.
“What does it say?””
Darius turned the photograph over.
Marcus read it.
His face went pale.
“No.””
Darius looked at him.
“What?””
Marcus backed away.
“I thought that was impossible.””
“What is?””
Marcus stared at the photograph.
“The date.””
Darius looked down.
There was a date beneath the sentence.
It was twelve years earlier.
The same year Darius's father died.
Darius's breathing stopped.
“My father…”
Marcus whispered, “This isn't about the unborn baby.””
Darius looked at him.
“What are you talking about?””
Marcus pointed toward the photograph.
“It's about Nia.””
Darius looked at his daughter.
Then at the note.
“She's my daughter.””
Marcus didn't answer.
Darius's voice hardened.
“Tell me.””
“I can't.””
“You know something.””
“I know what Simone told me.””
“What?””
Marcus swallowed.
“She said Nia wasn't conceived the way you think.””
Before Darius could respond, footsteps sounded downstairs.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Someone was walking through the house.
Darius pulled Nia behind him.
Marcus lowered his voice.
“We need to get out.””
The footsteps stopped.
Then a man's voice called from below.
“Darius.””
He knew that voice.
His blood turned cold.
Marcus whispered, “Who is it?””
Darius didn't answer.
Because the voice came again.
“Your father left you something.””
May you like
Darius stared toward the staircase.
His dead father's voice was unmistakable.
