Chapter 8 - The Room Beneath the HouseThere was no basement in Landon’s house.
At least not officially.
The property had been built by Everett Reed fifteen years earlier, then transferred to Landon after his marriage.
Landon knew every renovation.
Or thought he did.
He drove to Carol’s first.
Police were called.
The man claiming to be from the gas company was gone.
Eli was safe.
Landon knelt in front of him.
“Buddy, I need you to tell me about the basement.”
Eli looked toward Wyatt.
Wyatt stood near the door.
The boy frowned.
“Uncle Wyatt said secret.”
Landon kept his voice gentle.
“You’re allowed to tell me.”
“Will Uncle Wyatt be mad?”
Wyatt’s face collapsed.
“No, buddy.”
Eli looked at him.
“You said Dad doesn’t know.”
“I was wrong.”
The child thought.
Then nodded.
“There’s a door behind boxes.”
“Where?”
“In garage.”
Landon looked at Wyatt.
“You took my son into a hidden room?”
Wyatt shook his head.
“He followed me.”
“When?”
“Two months ago.”
“You were searching my house?”
“Yes.”
Landon wanted to hit him.
Instead he asked Eli:
“What did you see?”
“Stairs.”
“Anything else?”
“A table.”
“What was on the table?”
“Papers.”
Eli smiled suddenly.
“And old money.”
Wyatt frowned.
“What?”
Eli looked at him.
“You told me not to touch.”
Wyatt stared.
“I never saw money.”
Landon’s attention sharpened.
“What kind of money?”
“Funny money.”
“Coins?”
“No. Dollars but big.”
Carol brought paper.
Eli drew.
A long rectangle.
Numbers.
A face.
Old banknotes perhaps.
Or bearer bonds.
Wyatt looked disturbed.
“When I found the room, it was empty except files.”
“Then someone used it after you.”
“Or before.”
They returned to Landon’s house with police.
The hidden door sat behind shelving in the garage.
Landon had walked past it thousands of times.
Wyatt moved a cabinet.
A narrow steel panel appeared.
Electronic lock.
“How did you open it?” Landon asked.
“Archive card.”
“Of course.”
The credential had access to more than company records.
Wyatt swiped Melanie’s card.
The lock clicked.
Stairs descended.
Melanie remained upstairs.
She had refused to look at the bedroom again.
Landon, Wyatt, and two officers went down.
The room smelled dry.
Old.
Shelves lined the walls.
Most were empty.
A steel table stood in the center.
Eli had been right.
Papers.
And several bundles of old hundred-dollar bills.
An officer immediately photographed everything.
Landon saw Everett’s handwriting on a box.
O.H.
Orchard Holdings.
Wyatt whispered:
“This wasn’t here.”
“When you came before?”
“No.”
“Then Owen moved it.”
One officer opened the box with gloves.
Inside were property deeds.
Bank statements.
Letters.
A passport belonging to Olivia Mercer.
Landon picked up a photograph through an evidence sleeve.
Olivia.
Same dark-haired woman.
Perhaps twenty-five.
Beside her stood Everett.
And Owen.
The brothers looked young.
Happy.
Then Landon saw another picture.
Olivia holding a baby.
On the back:
Wyatt — 1992.
Landon stopped.
Wyatt leaned closer.
“What?”
The photograph slipped from Landon’s hand.
Wyatt stared at the name.
His own.
“That’s not me.”
“No.”
“You were born in 1987.”
“Yes.”
The child in the photograph was someone else named Wyatt.
Or—
Landon looked at his brother.
Something about Wyatt’s face.
His green eyes.
Everett’s eyes.
Owen’s.
But photographs could invent resemblance when fear wanted one.
They searched further.
A hospital envelope.
Inside:
Baby Boy Mercer.
Birth date.
March 8, 1992.
Five years after Wyatt Reed’s birth.
Mother:
Olivia Mercer.
Father:
Owen Reed.
Wyatt laughed from confusion.
“So Uncle Owen had a son.”
Landon read the next page.
Adoption record.
The child had been placed with a family in Indiana.
Name changed.
Original first name:
Wyatt.
Their uncle had named his son after Wyatt Reed.
“Why?”
Wyatt whispered.
Nobody knew.
Landon continued searching.
A letter from Olivia.
Everett,
Owen is getting worse. He says the company owes him and the baby everything. He has threatened to take Wyatt and disappear. I need your help.
Landon looked at his brother.
Their father had been helping Olivia escape Owen.
Maybe Orchard Holdings had been used to support her.
Maybe the transfers were not theft.
Another letter.
I will keep sending money through Orchard as long as you and the child remain safe. Do not contact Owen.
Everett’s handwriting.
Landon sat.
The mysterious transfers were payments.
Protection.
Support.
Wyatt looked stunned.
“He wasn’t hiding money from us.”
“No.”
“He was protecting them.”
“Yes.”
Then an officer found a newer envelope.
Postmarked eight months earlier.
Addressed to Everett.
Never opened.
Landon stared.
Their father had already been dead more than a year.
Someone had placed the letter in the hidden room anyway.
The officer opened it.
One line.
Everett, Owen found us.
Signed:
Olivia.
Landon felt cold.
“She’s alive.”
Wyatt looked toward the stairs.
“And Owen knows where she is.”
Then footsteps sounded above.
Melanie screamed.
Landon ran.
He reached the kitchen.
The back door stood open.
Melanie was gone.
On the floor lay Wyatt’s second phone.
The screen displayed one message from O.
YOU WANTED THE TRUTH. NOW COME GET YOUR WOMAN.
Wyatt stared.
Landon looked at his brother.
For fourteen months, Wyatt had been the man destroying Landon’s marriage.
Now someone had taken Melanie.
May you like
And Landon had no idea whether he wanted to save his wife because he still loved her—
or because nobody, not even a traitor, deserved to disappear into the Reed family’s secrets.
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