The Silent Guest

Chapter Two

Rain still whispered against the windows as Rachel followed the muddy footprints deeper into the hallway. The walls narrowed. Wallpaper peeled. This section of the house felt different—colder, untouched, like even time had avoided it.

At the end of the corridor was a door she hadn't seen on the floor plans. Small, warped from moisture, painted the same faded cream as the walls—as if someone wanted to forget it was there at all.

Rachel glanced at Marianne, who hovered behind her, fingers trembling against her shawl. "What's in there?"

Marianne's voice dropped to a hush. "That room's supposed to be sealed. Hasn't been opened in years."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Miss Laura never said. But it belonged to her father. He died in that room."

Rachel turned the knob.

The door groaned open with a reluctant creak.

Dust danced in the beam of her flashlight. A study, but older—everything heavy and dark, from the bookcases to the velvet chair half-swallowed by shadows. Faint cigar smoke still clung to the air. Someone had been here recently.

Her light caught something glinting on the desk: a cufflink, gold, engraved with a G. She bagged it quickly.

Behind her, Marianne gave a soft gasp. "That's… that's her uncle's."

"Uncle?"

"Vincent Goodman. Her father's younger brother. He… disappeared after the funeral, years ago."

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Disappeared? Or wasn't welcome back?"

Marianne hesitated. "Both, maybe. There were whispers. After Mr. Goodman died, something happened. Laura's mother… she changed. She became withdrawn, scared."

Rachel's pulse picked up. "And now the brother's cufflink is here, in a locked room?"

Marianne only nodded, pale.

Then, a voice echoed from the foyer: "Detective Kennedy?"

Rachel turned to see a sharply dressed woman, umbrella folded at her side, trench coat dripping.

"I'm Sonia Freeman. I'm—was—Laura's attorney."

Rachel met her at the stair rail. "You're out late."

"I was called," Sonia said coolly. "Or rather… I got a text. From Laura's phone. Just after midnight."

Rachel's eyes narrowed. "By Laura?"

"That's what I assumed—until I saw the news."

"Do you still have the message?"

Sonia held out her phone. The screen showed a text: "Sonia. Come now. Don't tell anyone. Bring the envelope." Sent at 12:02 a.m.

Rachel's heart ticked faster. "What envelope?"

Sonia hesitated. "Something Laura left with me months ago. Told me to bring it if she ever said that exact phrase."

"Do you have it with you?"

Sonia nodded, producing a leather file folder from her coat. She handed it over with slow, deliberate fingers. "I haven't opened it. Attorney-client privilege. But if she's dead…"

Rachel opened the folder. Inside was a typed letter—and a birth certificate. Not Laura's.

A name jumped out: Adam Goodman. Born 1996. Mother: unknown. Father: Richard Goodman.

Marianne gasped behind her.

Rachel whispered, " Seems Laura had a half-brother."