Chapter 1 - The Sound Beneath the FlowersNathaniel Mercer almost walked away.
That was the part he would remember afterward.
Not the flowers.
Not the shovel.
Not even the calm expression on Clarence Whitmore’s face.
The fact that he almost walked back into the mansion.
Nathaniel had returned from Baltimore two hours earlier than expected. His meeting had ended quickly, traffic had been unusually light, and all he wanted was to surprise Emery before dinner.
Instead, he found Clarence in the rear garden.
Fresh soil darkened a rectangular patch beneath a row of newly planted white flowers.
Nathaniel stopped beside the stone path.
“Dad, have you seen Emery?”
Clarence looked up.
For one fraction of a second, his face seemed blank.
Then warmth appeared effortlessly.
“She said she wanted to go out and play this morning.”
Nathaniel frowned.
“Where?”
Clarence shrugged.
“You know how children are.”
Nathaniel did.
Emery was eight, curious, energetic, and incapable of remaining clean for more than thirty minutes outside.
But she also knew she was not supposed to leave the estate without telling someone.
Nathaniel looked toward the mansion.
“Her bike is still in the garage.”
“Maybe she’s inside.”
“You said she went out.”
Clarence pressed the shovel into the soil.
“She may have come back.”
The answer was perfectly reasonable.
Almost.
Nathaniel’s eyes moved toward the freshly disturbed ground.
“What are you doing out here?”
Clarence smiled.
“You keep saying this garden looks empty.”
“I do?”
“All the time.”
Nathaniel tried to remember.
Maybe he had.
The past eighteen months had felt like several years compressed into one.
His wife Laurel’s death.
Moving into her father’s mansion temporarily so Emery could remain close to her maternal grandfather.
A new job.
Legal arguments over Laurel’s estate.
Trying to raise a grieving child while barely understanding his own grief.
He forgot minor conversations.
Clarence knew that.
“I thought I’d plant some more flowers,” the older man said.
Nathaniel looked at the neat row.
“They’re nice.”
Clarence smiled.
“I thought so.”
Nathaniel turned toward the house.
Then—
Thump.
He stopped.
The sound was faint.
So faint Nathaniel initially wondered whether he had imagined it.
He looked back.
Clarence had stopped moving.
“What was that?”
Clarence glanced toward the trees.
“Squirrel, maybe.”
Nathaniel stared.
Another second passed.
Nothing.
He turned again.
Then—
Thump.
Nathaniel’s chest tightened.
That sound did not come from the trees.
It came from the ground.
He looked at Clarence.
Clarence smiled.
But this time, something was wrong with the smile.
It had frozen.
Nathaniel stepped toward the flower bed.
“What's underneath there?”
“Drainage.”
Nathaniel crouched.
Clarence moved quickly.
“Nathaniel.”
Nathaniel stopped.
It was not what Clarence said.
It was how he said it.
Too sharp.
Too frightened.
Nathaniel looked down.
One of the flowers trembled.
There was no wind.
“Move.”
Clarence’s jaw tightened.
“You’re being ridiculous.”
Nathaniel grabbed the shovel.
Clarence caught the handle.
“What are you doing?”
“Move.”
“Nathaniel—”
“Get your hands off it.”
For several seconds they stood frozen.
Clarence released the shovel.
Nathaniel tore through the loose soil.
It was shallow.
Too shallow for a pipe.
Too deliberate for ordinary gardening.
His shovel struck something solid.
A hollow metallic sound.
Nathaniel dropped to his knees and pushed dirt away with his hands.
Dark fabric appeared.
Then a handle.
A suitcase.
A large suitcase positioned horizontally beneath the disturbed earth.
Nathaniel’s entire body went cold.
“No.”
Clarence stepped backward.
“Nathaniel, listen to me.”
Nathaniel dug faster.
“Emery!”
Thump.
From inside.
Nathaniel ripped soil away from the lid.
“EMERY!”
A faint voice answered.
“Dad…”
Something inside Nathaniel broke.
He dragged the suitcase free enough to reach the fastenings.
His hands shook so violently he could barely make them work.
“Daddy’s here!”
“Dad…”
“I’m here, baby. I’m right here.”
Clarence approached.
“She’s fine.”
Nathaniel looked up.
The expression on his face stopped Clarence.
“You put her in this?”
“It isn't what you think.”
Nathaniel opened the suitcase.
Emery lay horizontally along its length, knees slightly bent, dirty clothes clinging to her small body.
Her hair was tangled.
Tears streaked her cheeks.
She blinked at the daylight.
Then saw Nathaniel.
“Dad.”
Nathaniel pulled her into his arms.
She clung to him so tightly her fingernails pressed through his shirt.
“I tried to make noise.”
“I heard you.”
“I thought you left.”
“No.”
She began sobbing.
Clarence said, “Nathaniel, she was never going to be there long.”
Nathaniel slowly turned.
“What?”
Clarence swallowed.
“She needed to calm down.”
Nathaniel stared at him.
“Inside a suitcase?”
“She was hysterical.”
“You covered it with dirt.”
“Only lightly.”
Nathaniel stood while holding Emery.
The girl buried her face against his neck.
“Don't let Grandpa take me.”
Nathaniel’s eyes never left Clarence.
“He won't.”
Clarence’s composure cracked.
“You don’t understand what she did.”
Nathaniel stepped backward.
“I don't care what she did.”
“She stole something.”
Emery lifted her head.
“I didn't steal it!”
Clarence’s eyes flashed.
“You took the phone.”
Nathaniel looked at his daughter.
“What phone?”
Emery started shaking again.
Clarence moved forward.
“Give it to me.”
Nathaniel turned his body between them.
“Stay where you are.”
“That phone belongs to me.”
Emery whispered,
“It was Mom’s.”
Silence.
Clarence went pale.
Nathaniel stared at his daughter.
“Laurel’s?”
Emery nodded.
“I found it in Grandpa’s desk.”
Clarence said quickly, “She has no idea what she’s talking about.”
Emery clung harder to Nathaniel.
“There was a video.”
Nathaniel’s pulse began pounding.
“What video?”
Clarence stepped forward again.
Nathaniel shouted,
“Don't.”
Clarence stopped.
Emery whispered into Nathaniel’s shoulder.
“Mom was talking.”
“What did she say?”
Emery looked at Clarence.
Terrified.
Then back at her father.
“She said Grandpa was lying to you.”
Clarence’s face changed.
Nathaniel saw it.
Not anger.
Fear.
Real fear.
He pulled out his own phone.
Clarence’s voice sharpened.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling 911.”
“Nathaniel, don't turn this into something it isn't.”
Nathaniel looked at the suitcase.
The shovel.
The fresh flowers.
Then at the dirt covering his daughter’s clothes.
“What exactly should I call it?”
Clarence had no answer.
Nathaniel dialed.
While the dispatcher answered, Emery pulled weakly at his collar.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“I hid Mom’s phone.”
Nathaniel lowered his voice.
“Where?”
She whispered four words.
Clarence heard them.
May you like
And every trace of color disappeared from his face.
“Under the garden angel.”
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