Chapter 2 - The Man Cedric Said Was Gone
Jordan did not take Adrian’s hand.
He pressed himself against the stone wall.
“My dad said you’re bad.”
Adrian’s expression barely changed.
“I know.”
“He said you stole money.”
“I know that too.”
“Did you?”
Adrian hesitated.
Jordan noticed.
Adults usually lied faster.
“I took money I shouldn’t have taken,” Adrian said. “But not the money your father told you about.”
Jordan stared.
“That sounds like stealing.”
“It was.”
Jordan did not expect the answer.
Adrian looked toward the ceiling.
Cedric’s footsteps moved outside the basement door.
“We need to go.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“That’s smart.”
Jordan blinked.
“What?”
“You shouldn’t trust a stranger because he says he’s family.”
Adrian reached inside his coat slowly.
Jordan tensed.
Adrian pulled out a photograph.
It showed a much younger Cedric standing beside another man.
Adrian.
Between them stood an older gentleman Jordan recognized immediately.
Grandpa Thomas.
Thomas Ellison had died when Jordan was two.
Jordan had only memories built from photographs and stories.
In the picture, Thomas held baby Jordan.
On the back, written in blue ink:
CEDRIC, ADRIAN, AND OUR LITTLE JORDAN — CHRISTMAS 2018.
Jordan looked up.
“You really are him.”
“Yes.”
“Why did Dad say you went away?”
“Because he wanted me gone.”
A hard knock sounded above.
“Jordan!”
Cedric.
Jordan flinched.
Adrian switched off the flashlight.
Neither moved.
Cedric tried the basement handle.
The door remained locked from outside.
Jordan realized something strange.
His father was afraid to open it.
“Jordan!”
Adrian whispered, “Your father doesn’t know about the passage being reopened.”
“What passage?”
Adrian guided Jordan farther down.
“Your great-grandfather built this house during Prohibition. There are doors everywhere.”
“That’s illegal.”
Despite everything, Adrian almost smiled.
“Some of them probably were.”
At the bottom of the staircase, Adrian moved behind an old wine rack.
He pressed a section of wood.
A narrow opening appeared.
Jordan stared.
“You came through there?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To find something.”
“The cabinet?”
Adrian looked sharply at him.
“What did you take?”
Jordan remembered the brass key.
His fist had stayed closed around it through everything.
He opened his hand.
The key lay against his palm.
Adrian stopped breathing.
“Where did you get that?”
“The forbidden cabinet.”
Adrian crouched.
“Did Cedric see it?”
“Yes.”
“Did he get it?”
Jordan shook his head.
Something like relief crossed Adrian’s face.
“That key is the reason I came back.”
Jordan closed his hand.
“What does it open?”
Adrian looked toward the darkness.
“A steel box your grandfather hid here.”
“What’s inside?”
“Proof.”
“Of what?”
Adrian’s eyes met his.
“That your father has been lying to almost everyone in this family.”
Cedric struck the basement door above.
“JORDAN!”
Jordan jumped.
Adrian took his hand.
This time Jordan allowed it.
They moved through the narrow passage.
It opened behind a stone storage room leading toward an old exterior coal entrance hidden beneath ivy.
Cold night air hit Jordan’s face.
He breathed deeply.
Outside.
Safe.
Almost.
A woman waited beside a dark sedan near the edge of the property.
She was perhaps fifty, wearing a long coat and holding a phone.
When she saw Jordan, her expression changed.
“Oh, thank God.”
Jordan stepped behind Adrian.
“Who is she?”
“Miriam Cole.”
The woman crouched at a respectful distance.
“Jordan, I’m a lawyer.”
Jordan looked at Adrian.
“That doesn’t make me feel better.”
Miriam laughed softly.
“Reasonable.”
Adrian said, “She worked with your grandfather.”
Miriam’s face became serious.
“And I’ve been trying to stop your father from selling Ellison House.”
Jordan frowned.
“Dad said he owns it.”
Miriam and Adrian exchanged a look.
Jordan saw it.
“What?”
Miriam answered carefully.
“Your father lives here.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Adrian almost smiled again.
Jordan sounded like his grandfather.
Miriam said, “No. Cedric does not own Ellison House outright.”
Jordan looked back at the mansion.
The huge windows glowed beyond the trees.
“Then who does?”
Miriam took a breath.
“You do.”
Jordan laughed because the answer was ridiculous.
“I’m eight.”
“Yes.”
“Eight-year-olds don’t own mansions.”
“Usually not.”
Jordan’s smile disappeared.
Miriam continued.
“Your grandfather placed this house and most of the surrounding land into a family trust. You are the primary future beneficiary.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means the property is supposed to be protected for you.”
Jordan looked at Adrian.
“Then why is Dad selling it?”
Nobody answered immediately.
That was enough.
Jordan whispered, “He’s not allowed.”
Adrian nodded.
“Not the way he’s doing it.”
Behind them, a distant door slammed.
Cedric had finally entered the basement.
Adrian looked toward the mansion.
“We need to leave.”
Jordan pulled back.
“My dad will think I’m missing.”
Miriam said, “We’re calling the police ourselves.”
Jordan became frightened.
“I’ll get in trouble.”
“No.”
“For the cabinet.”
“No.”
“For going outside.”
Miriam shook her head.
“You’re not the one in trouble.”
Jordan looked toward Ellison House again.
A second-floor light switched on.
Then another.
His father was searching.
Jordan suddenly remembered something.
“Uncle Adrian?”
“Yes?”
“There was a book inside the cabinet.”
“What kind?”
“Black leather.”
Adrian’s expression changed.
“Did you open it?”
“Only one page.”
“What did you see?”
Jordan thought.
“Numbers.”
“What else?”
He closed his eyes.
A name.
He remembered because it appeared over and over.
“Redwood.”
Miriam froze.
Adrian swore quietly.
Jordan looked between them.
“What is Redwood?”
Adrian answered.
“The company buying the mansion.”
Jordan’s stomach tightened.
Miriam corrected him.
“Trying to buy it.”
Adrian looked toward the glowing windows.
“If Cedric kept the Redwood ledger in that cabinet, he’s further along than we thought.”
Inside the mansion, Cedric reached the bottom of the basement stairs.
No Jordan.
No Adrian.
Only darkness.
Then his flashlight found the wine rack.
It stood open.
Cedric’s fear became rage.
He ran back upstairs toward the forbidden cabinet.
The door remained open.
The brass key was gone.
So was Jordan.
Cedric grabbed his phone.
He called one number.
The man who answered said, “It’s after midnight.”
Cedric did not bother with greetings.
“Move the closing.”
“What?”
“Tomorrow.”
“We’re not ready.”
“We are now.”
“Cedric—”
“The boy has the key.”
Silence.
Then the man asked:
“And Adrian?”
May you like
Cedric stared toward the basement.
“He’s back.”
