Chapter 3 - Someone Inside the House
Harlan did not shout.
Rue would later decide shouting would have been easier.
He simply stood beside Belle’s hospital bed while Adrian repeated the information, and the temperature in the room seemed to fall ten degrees.
“Whose login?” Harlan asked.
“Marissa Vale.”
Rue glanced at him.
“Who’s Marissa?”
“My household administrator.”
“Does she handle Belle’s medication?”
“No.”
Adrian corrected him carefully.
“She has access to scheduling records.”
Harlan looked at him.
“Why?”
“Emergency permissions.”
“Remove them.”
“Already done.”
“Where is she?”
“At the house.”
“Keep her there.”
Rue shifted.
“Maybe don’t imprison your employee before you know what happened.”
Both men turned toward her.
Rue lifted her hands.
“Just bringing some regular-people procedure into the billionaire bunker.”
Adrian’s mouth almost moved.
Harlan did not find it funny.
“She accessed my daughter’s records two days before someone abducted her.”
“We don’t know she abducted Belle.”
Harlan stepped closer.
“No. We know my daughter was found half-conscious in a frozen garage without medication.”
Rue held his gaze.
“That’s why you need the truth, not the first person who looks guilty.”
For a moment neither spoke.
Then Belle stirred.
Harlan immediately turned away.
Rue understood something in that moment.
Harlan Voss could control companies, employees, security teams and entire rooms.
Belle was the one place control failed him.
They left the hospital the next morning.
Rue planned to go home.
Belle had other ideas.
“You said you would come.”
“I did come.”
“To our house.”
Rue looked at Harlan.
He was standing beside the hospital entrance, expression blank.
“This sounds suspiciously coordinated.”
“I made no promises.”
Belle looked at her father.
“You said she could.”
“I said we would ask.”
“You ask.”
Harlan looked at Rue.
Rue waited.
He exhaled through his nose.
“Would you come to lunch?”
Rue smiled.
“That physically hurt you, didn’t it?”
“More than expected.”
Belle laughed.
Rue went.
The Voss residence was not a house.
It was a statement.
A stone mansion stood behind iron gates north of the city, surrounded by bare winter trees and enough security cameras to make privacy feel theoretical.
Inside, everything was elegant.
And strangely quiet.
Rue had expected gold.
Instead she found dark wood, cream walls, old photographs and rooms large enough to feel lonely.
Belle took her hand.
“Come see my room.”
Harlan watched them disappear upstairs.
Belle’s room looked nothing like the rest of the house.
Pink cushions.
Books everywhere.
A dollhouse.
Crayon drawings taped crookedly to one wall.
Rue recognized Harlan in several.
He was always enormous.
In one picture, he had blue hair.
“Why is your dad blue?”
“He was sad.”
Rue looked at Belle.
“Blue means sad?”
The girl nodded.
“What color are you?”
Belle considered.
“Yellow.”
“And me?”
“Orange.”
“Why orange?”
“Warm.”
Rue felt something press behind her ribs.
She sat on the carpet.
“Your turn. Why were you at Daddy’s office Tuesday?”
“Play.”
“For the charity show?”
Belle nodded.
“Who took you downstairs?”
Belle’s hand stopped over a box of crayons.
Rue immediately softened her voice.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
The girl looked toward the bedroom door.
“She said Daddy needed me.”
“Who said?”
Belle whispered.
“Aunt Evelyn.”
Rue didn’t react.
Not outwardly.
“Harlan’s sister-in-law?”
Belle nodded.
“But Aunt Evelyn wasn’t in the garage.”
“Who was?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you see her face?”
Belle shook her head.
“She smelled like flowers.”
“What kind?”
Belle shrugged.
“Purple.”
Rue smiled faintly.
“Purple smell. Got it.”
Children noticed strange things.
Sometimes the strange things mattered.
At lunch, Rue sat across from Harlan.
Belle ate grilled cheese between them.
A woman entered midway through the meal.
Elegant.
Blonde.
Late thirties.
Her perfume reached the table before she did.
Lavender.
Rue’s fork stopped.
The woman kissed Belle’s forehead.
“Oh, sweetheart. You frightened us.”
Belle leaned away.
Barely.
But Rue noticed.
“This is Evelyn Voss,” Harlan said.
“My brother’s widow.”
Evelyn smiled at Rue.
“So you’re the waitress.”
Harlan’s gaze sharpened.
Rue smiled.
“Today, yes.”
Evelyn laughed lightly.
“I didn’t mean it badly.”
“People rarely do after they say it.”
Belle giggled.
Harlan looked down at his plate, suspiciously interested in potatoes.
Evelyn sat.
“I’m grateful you found Belle.”
“Me too.”
“How exactly did you happen to be in that garage?”
“I walked.”
“At midnight?”
“People with jobs occasionally do that.”
Harlan looked up.
“Evelyn.”
“What?”
“You’re interrogating my guest.”
Rue leaned back.
“I’ve had worse interviews.”
Evelyn’s smile cooled.
After lunch she left.
Rue waited until Belle had gone upstairs.
Then she looked at Harlan.
“She told me Evelyn sent her downstairs.”
Harlan’s entire body changed.
“When?”
“Upstairs.”
“Exact words.”
Rue repeated them.
He immediately reached for his phone.
She stopped him.
“Wait.”
His eyes snapped toward her hand on his wrist.
Rue removed it.
“If Evelyn was involved, calling security while she’s still nearby may scare her.”
“My security answers to me.”
“Someone used records from inside your house.”
His jaw tightened.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning maybe stop assuming everyone around you is loyal because you pay them.”
Silence.
“Adrian has been with me fifteen years.”
“I didn’t say Adrian.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I’m thinking everybody.”
Harlan stared at her.
“You trust nobody.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It keeps people alive.”
Rue’s voice softened.
“Did it keep Belle safe Tuesday?”
The words hit harder than she intended.
Harlan looked away.
She immediately regretted them.
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
He walked toward the window.
“You’re right.”
Rue watched him.
“Where’s Belle’s mother?”
His shoulders went still.
“Dead.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She died four years ago.”
“Was it sudden?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t offer more.
Rue didn’t ask.
Later that afternoon, she found Harlan in the library trying to braid Belle’s hair.
Trying was generous.
He held three pieces of hair like a man attempting to disarm machinery.
Rue leaned against the doorway.
“You need backup?”
“No.”
Belle looked at her in the mirror.
“He needs backup.”
Harlan gave his daughter a betrayed look.
Rue came closer.
“Move.”
He stood.
Rue braided Belle’s hair.
Harlan watched.
“You make that look easy.”
“It is.”
“That feels insulting.”
“It should.”
Belle smiled.
For the next hour they played a board game.
Harlan lost.
Badly.
He accused Belle of cheating.
Belle informed him she had learned from Adrian.
Rue laughed hard enough to cry.
For the first time, the Voss mansion sounded like a home.
That evening, Rue prepared to leave.
Harlan walked her toward the front entrance.
“You don’t have to keep coming.”
Rue looked at him.
“You think I’m doing this for you?”
“No.”
“Good.”
A pause.
Then he said, “Belle hasn’t slept through the night since her mother died.”
Rue’s expression changed.
“She slept last night.”
“Yes.”
“With me nearby.”
“Yes.”
Rue understood what he was asking without him saying it.
“I can visit sometimes.”
He nodded.
“Sometimes.”
Their eyes held a little too long.
Something shifted.
Small.
Dangerous in an entirely different way.
Then Adrian appeared at the end of the hallway.
“Harlan.”
One word.
Urgent.
Harlan stepped away.
“What?”
“We checked Evelyn’s movements.”
“And?”
“She left the rehearsal at ten thirty-eight.”
Rue felt tension rise.
“With Belle?”
“No. Cameras show Evelyn leaving alone through the east lobby.”
Harlan’s brows drew together.
“But Belle said Evelyn sent her downstairs.”
Adrian nodded.
“She may have.”
“Then who met Belle?”
“We don’t know.”
He looked toward Rue.
“But we identified something else.”
Adrian opened a photograph on his phone.
It showed the woman in the dark coat leading Belle toward the elevator.
“Image enhancement caught her hand.”
Rue looked closer.
A silver ring.
Large.
Distinctive.
Harlan stopped breathing.
Rue looked at him.
“You recognize it.”
He didn’t answer.
Adrian did.
“That ring belonged to Harlan’s wife.”
Rue stared at him.
Harlan’s wife had been dead for four years.
Adrian swiped to a second photograph.
The woman in the garage footage had turned just enough for the camera to catch part of her face.
Rue saw a pale cheek.
Blonde hair beneath the hood.
And a profile nearly identical to the woman framed in the family portrait behind them.
May you like
Harlan whispered one name.
“Clara.”
