The Silent Treason Beneath My Hudson Valley Estate and the Lost Child
“He’s lying,” Marcus muttered from the doorway.
“I’m not,” Caleb said. “I left it somewhere you’ll never think to look.”
My mind raced through the acres of the estate.
“The greenhouse?” I asked.
Caleb kept his eyes locked on mine, his expression blank.
“The library?” I tried again.
A tiny twitch in his left eyelid gave him away.
“It’s in the library,” I said.
“You’re guessing,” Caleb said, but his voice had lost its edge.
“Daniel, keep searching him,” I ordered. “Marcus, come with me.”
We ran back up the stone steps.
The cold air of the foyer felt like a physical blow.
The grandfather clock was still ticking, a steady, mocking rhythm.
“Where in the library would he hide a keycard?” Marcus asked.
“Somewhere secure,” I said. “Somewhere he had access to daily.”
We entered the library, the smell of old leather and paper surrounding us.
I walked to the massive mahogany desk.
I pulled open the drawers, dumping their contents onto the floor.
Pens, paperclips, old ledgers, and keys scattered across the rug.
Nothing with a biometric sensor.
“Check the bookshelves,” I said.