Chapter 2 - Charlotte's House Had Too Many CamerasCharlotte's house wasn't a house.
It was a compound.
Mia stared through the tinted SUV window as iron gates opened onto a long driveway lined with perfectly trimmed hedges and glowing landscape lights.
The mansion rose above them in pale stone and glass.
It was larger than the motel where Mia and Anna had lived for six months.
Maybe larger than the entire apartment building before that.
Mia hugged the guitar tighter.
Charlotte noticed.
“You can put that down.”
“No.”
Charlotte smiled.
“All right.”
The smile was gentle.
Everything Charlotte did was gentle now.
She had bought Mia a sandwich before leaving the rooftop.
Then another when Mia ate the first one too quickly.
She didn't ask uncomfortable questions while Mia ate.
That made Mia like her.
Which made Mia afraid.
Anna's rules existed for a reason.
Rule one: never play more than eleven notes.
Rule two: if somebody recognized them, run.
Rule three: never tell anyone about the final three.
Mia had followed the first two.
Mostly.
Charlotte led her inside.
A woman in her fifties met them in the foyer.
“Nora, this is Mia.”
The woman looked surprised.
Then her eyes moved to the guitar.
Something flashed across her face.
Recognition?
Mia stepped backward.
Nora immediately looked away.
“Hello, Mia.”
Charlotte noticed Mia's reaction.
“Nora has worked for my family for twenty years. You're safe with her.”
Safe.
Adults loved that word.
Anna rarely used it.
Anna said things like, “This place is safer.”
Never safe.
Nora showed Mia a guest bedroom larger than any room she'd ever slept in.
There was a private bathroom.
A balcony.
Fresh pajamas already waiting.
“How did you get these?” Mia asked.
Charlotte smiled.
“I had Nora find something from my niece's things.”
Mia didn't know Charlotte had a niece.
She didn't ask.
Dinner arrived on a tray.
Mia ate pasta, bread, chicken, and half a chocolate cake slice.
Charlotte sat nearby but didn't eat.
She watched.
“Your mother used to eat like that after rehearsals.”
Mia paused.
“You played music together?”
“We did everything together.”
“Then why didn't she tell me about you?”
Charlotte's expression changed.
Only slightly.
“Your mother and I had a disagreement.”
“What kind?”
“The kind adults sometimes don't know how to fix.”
Mia looked at her plate.
“Mom fixes things.”
Charlotte smiled sadly.
“Not everything.”
After dinner, Mia walked through the upstairs hallway.
Every room looked staged.
Perfect flowers.
Perfect art.
Perfect silence.
Then she noticed the cameras.
Small black lenses mounted discreetly near ceilings.
Hallway.
Staircase.
Back entrance.
Charlotte followed her gaze.
“My father had security concerns.”
“Your father lives here?”
“No.”
“Where?”
“Palm Springs most of the year.”
Mia relaxed slightly.
Charlotte saw that too.
“Do you want to call the police?”
Mia looked sharply at her.
“To find your mother.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Mom said not to.”
Charlotte sighed.
“Mia, if Anna is missing—”
“She isn't missing.”
“Do you know where she is?”
Mia said nothing.
Charlotte crouched.
“I won't force you.”
That should have felt reassuring.
Instead, Mia noticed Charlotte's hand.
Her thumb was pressing against the side of her index finger.
Hard.
Like she was stopping herself from showing frustration.
That night Mia locked her bedroom door.
She placed the guitar beside her.
Then checked the windows.
Third floor.
No escape.
She climbed into bed.
The sheets smelled like lavender.
For the first time in nineteen days, she slept in a real bed.
She woke at 2:13 a.m.
Voices.
Mia sat up.
Charlotte was speaking downstairs.
Mia slipped out of bed.
Barefoot.
She moved into the hallway.
The voice came from a room near the staircase.
Charlotte's study.
The door was almost closed.
Mia approached.
“…don't tell him yet.”
A man's voice came through the speakerphone.
“You're sure?”
“I heard the melody myself.”
“You said Anna taught it to her?”
“Yes.”
“Did she play all fourteen?”
Mia's heart stopped.
Charlotte knew.
She knew there were fourteen notes.
“No,” Charlotte said. “Only the first eleven.”
“Then we still need the ending.”
Mia backed away.
The man's voice continued.
“If Anna gave her the password, the drive may be with the guitar.”
Charlotte sighed.
“I've checked the case.”
“Not the instrument?”
“She won't let it out of her hands.”
“Charlotte.”
“I know.”
“You've been looking for this child for seven years.”
Mia's stomach dropped.
Seven years?
She was eight.
Charlotte had been searching for her almost her entire life.
The man continued.
“Your father cannot know she's in Los Angeles until we have what Anna took.”
Charlotte's voice went cold.
“I said I know.”
Mia stepped backward.
Floorboard.
Click.
Silence inside the study.
Mia turned.
Ran to her room.
She closed the door without slamming it.
Locked it.
Then pressed both hands over her mouth.
Footsteps approached.
Slow.
Stopped outside.
A gentle knock.
“Mia?”
Charlotte.
Mia stared at the door.
“Are you awake?”
She didn't answer.
After several seconds, Charlotte walked away.
Mia waited.
Then picked up the guitar.
For the first time since Anna disappeared, she examined it differently.
The worn wood.
The scratches.
The old bridge.
The faded label inside the soundhole.
What Anna took.
The drive may be with the guitar.
Mia's heartbeat accelerated.
Her mother hadn't simply given her an old instrument.
She had given her something people had spent seven years trying to find.
May you like
And Charlotte hadn't brought Mia home because she was hungry.
She had brought her home because of the song.
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