Chapter 2 - THE BLANKET
Nobody moved.
The blue blanket hung from the guard’s hand like an accusation.
Matteo stared at it.
Leah stared at it.
I stared at Matteo because his reaction told me more than the object itself.
He knew that blanket.
Not one like it.
That one.
“What do you mean it was buried with her?” I asked.
His eyes remained on the fabric.
“Elena carried it everywhere after Leah was born.”
Leah whispered, “Mommy blue.”
Matteo’s face tightened.
“When Elena died, Leah kept asking for it. I thought keeping it here would confuse her.”
“So you put it in the coffin.”
“Yes.”
I looked at the guard.
“Do not bring that closer.”
He stopped.
Good.
Leah was already shaking again.
I shifted her higher in my arms.
“Can we go somewhere she cannot see the hallway?”
Matteo blinked as though remembering his daughter was there.
“Yes.”
We moved into the kitchen.
Not because kitchens are inherently safe.
Because children recognize them.
Tables.
Fruit.
Cups.
Ordinary things.
I sat Leah on the counter.
“Do you want water?”
She shook her head.
“Juice?”
No.
“Do you want me to hold you?”
A tiny nod.
So I did.
Matteo entered a minute later.
Without the blanket.
“Where is it?”
“Security has it.”
“Good.”
His face was pale.
Rosa stood near the sink.
She crossed herself quietly.
Matteo noticed.
“Rosa.”
She looked terrified.
“Sir.”
“What do you know?”
“Nothing.”
Too fast.
Matteo’s voice cooled.
“Rosa.”
She looked at Leah.
Then at me.
“I don’t talk about Mrs. Duca.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Rosa closed her eyes.
“Sometimes things moved after she died.”
The kitchen went silent.
I did not believe in ghosts.
I did believe in people who used ghost stories to hide behavior.
“What things?” I asked.
Rosa looked at me, relieved to answer someone without power.
“Her perfume appeared in the nursery.”
Matteo frowned.
“What?”
“A bottle. On the dresser. Two weeks after the funeral.”
“Why wasn’t I told?”
Rosa’s face tightened.
“Mr. Bell said you were grieving.”
Matteo became very still.
“Bell.”
I knew the house manager’s name from the agency notes.
Arthur Bell.
Fifty-six.
Employed by the Duca family for twenty-three years.
Matteo asked:
“Where is he?”
Rosa swallowed.
“Lower office.”
He reached for his phone.
I said, “Matteo.”
He looked at me.
That was the first time I used his first name.
It changed the room.
Not romantically.
Not yet.
Just directly.
“Not in front of Leah.”
His eyes moved to his daughter.
He nodded.
“Right.”
Progress.
Matteo told security to bring Bell to his private study without explanation.
Then he remained in the kitchen.
I noticed that too.
He wanted to go.
He chose to stay.
Leah eventually drank apple juice.
Then ate half a cracker.
Her body slowly relaxed.
I used the easiest questions I could think of.
“Do you like dogs?”
No.
“Cats?”
No.
“Dinosaurs?”
She nodded.
“What kind?”
“Big.”
“Excellent category.”
Leah looked toward Matteo.
“Daddy dinosaur?”
I almost smiled.
Matteo looked offended.
“I’m not a dinosaur.”
Leah nodded confidently.
“Big.”
I laughed.
Rosa tried not to.
Even Matteo’s mouth moved.
For ten seconds the kitchen became a home instead of a crime scene.
Then a security man appeared.
“Mr. Bell is in the study.”
Matteo looked at me.
“Stay with her.”
I understood the old version of him expected compliance.
The new version caught himself.
“Please.”
I nodded.
He left.
Rosa exhaled.
“That is new.”
“What?”
“He said please.”
I smiled.
“High-risk environment.”
She looked at Leah.
Then lowered her voice.
“Miss Nora.”
“Yes?”
“Mr. Bell was the one who kept hiring nannies.”
I frowned.
“The agency said Matteo’s assistant handled staffing.”
“No. Mr. Bell approved every candidate.”
“Why?”
“Household security.”
That was plausible.
Too plausible.
“What about the women who quit?”
Rosa looked away.
“What?”
“Did all fourteen leave because of Leah?”
She said nothing.
My stomach tightened.
“Rosa.”
“One said she heard crying from the blue room.”
I felt cold.
“When?”
“Four months ago.”
“What did Bell say?”
“That the vents carry sound.”
“From where?”
“Television.”
“Did you believe him?”
She looked at me.
“No.”
Leah played with the edge of my sleeve.
I lowered my voice further.
“Anything else?”
“One nanny found Mrs. Duca’s bracelet in her bathroom.”
“Could it have been left there before?”
“The bathroom had been renovated after Mrs. Duca died.”
Not a ghost.
Someone planting objects.
For what?
To frighten caregivers away?
To trigger Leah?
To destabilize Matteo?
All three?
My phone buzzed in my bag.
Hospital billing.
Again.
I ignored it.
Rosa noticed.
“You need this job.”
“Very much.”
“Then be careful.”
“Because of Leah?”
She looked toward the hallway.
“No.”
That answer settled heavily.
Twenty minutes later, Matteo returned.
His face was unreadable.
“What did Bell say?” I asked.
Rosa immediately moved away.
Leah was building a tower from sugar packets.
Matteo lowered his voice.
“He says he knows nothing about the blanket.”
“Do you believe him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“He asked which blanket before I described it.”
There.
I felt a sharp satisfaction.
Matteo noticed.
“You look pleased.”
“I like useful lies.”
“I did not realize that was a category.”
“It is when somebody lies badly.”
He sat across from me at the kitchen island.
“Bell had access to Elena’s burial arrangements.”
“Could he have removed the blanket before burial?”
“The coffin was closed at the funeral home. He handled transport.”
“Then yes.”
Matteo’s jaw tightened.
“Why?”
“That’s the interesting part.”
“You say that like this is a puzzle.”
“It is.”
His eyes hardened.
“A child is involved.”
“I know.”
I leaned forward.
“That is exactly why guessing based on emotion is dangerous.”
He stared.
Then nodded once.
“What do you think?”
“I think somebody wants Leah afraid of that room.”
“She was already afraid.”
“Exactly.”
He frowned.
“If you wanted to keep a child terrified, would you choose a random object?”
“No.”
“You would choose the thing connected to the original fear.”
“The blanket.”
“Yes.”
Matteo looked toward Leah.
“So someone knows what happened that night.”
“More than staff gossip.”
His face darkened.
“Bell.”
“Maybe.”
“There’s that word.”
I blinked.
Then realized he was copying me.
“Fine.”
I almost smiled.
“It is the strongest possibility.”
“Better.”
Leah knocked over the sugar tower.
Matteo reached to rebuild it.
She slapped his hand away.
His face changed.
He pulled back immediately.
No anger.
Only hurt.
I watched Leah.
“Did Daddy build it wrong?”
She shook her head.
“No Daddy touch.”
Matteo went still.
I asked gently, “Does Daddy touch things you build?”
“No.”
“Then why no touch?”
Leah’s small face tightened.
“Daddy mad.”
Matteo looked horrified.
“I’ve never—”
I held up a hand.
“Not now.”
His jaw flexed.
But he listened.
“Leah, when is Daddy mad?”
She looked toward the hallway.
“Blue room.”
My stomach tightened.
“Daddy was mad in the blue room?”
She nodded.
Matteo went pale.
“I broke the door,” he whispered.
I looked at him.
“That night?”
“Yes.”
“Did Leah see you?”
“Yes.”
There it was.
To Matteo, he had been rescuing them.
To a two-year-old trapped beside an unconscious mother, a furious man smashed through a door.
The rescuer looked like the threat.
I exhaled.
“Matteo.”
He looked at me.
“She may associate your anger with what happened after.”
His face collapsed by a fraction.
“I was trying to get to her.”
“I know.”
“She was screaming.”
“I know.”
“I had to break it.”
“I know.”
“But she doesn’t.”
Silence.
His eyes went to Leah.
“How do I fix that?”
The question surprised me.
No order.
No demand.
Just a father.
“Slowly.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only honest one.”
I lowered my voice.
“You stop forcing closeness. You let her say no to touch. You explain before you move toward her. You make yourself predictable.”
“I am predictable.”
I looked at him.
“People are terrified of you.”
“That’s different.”
“To a three-year-old?”
He stopped.
Fair.
I continued.
“And no yelling near the hallway.”
“I don’t yell.”
Rosa, across the kitchen, dropped a spoon.
Matteo looked at her.
She suddenly became fascinated by the dishwasher.
I smiled.
“You project.”
He leaned back.
“Apparently.”
I liked him more when he did not defend the indefensible.
That was dangerous.
Not because he was attractive.
He was.
Obviously.
But attraction to powerful men is easiest before you know where their power has been used.
I needed to know more.
At three, Leah finally napped.
This time on the living-room sofa again.
Matteo and I stood by the windows.
Manhattan below.
Tiny.
Distant.
He asked:
“How much is the hospital bill?”
I turned.
“What?”
“Your phone.”
My stomach tightened.
“You saw?”
“You declined the same number four times.”
“That does not answer how you know it’s a hospital.”
“My security team checks anyone entering this residence.”
Anger flashed.
“You pulled my financial records?”
“Basic background.”
“That is not basic.”
“It is here.”
“Then here has a problem.”
His face went still.
I folded my arms.
“My mother’s debt is none of your business.”
“You need the job.”
“Yes.”
“You stayed after being hit with a train because you need the money.”
“Yes.”
“I can pay the bill.”
I laughed.
“No.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
“Because I met you six hours ago.”
“And?”
“And I am not selling you the right to make decisions about me.”
His expression changed.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Men who solve problems with money sometimes forget what the money buys emotionally.”
Silence.
I continued.
“If you pay my mother’s hospital bill, every time I disagree with you I will wonder whether I’m supposed to be grateful.”
“I would never use it against you.”
“Maybe not.”
He heard the emphasis.
Maybe.
Matteo looked away.
“Fair.”
That word again.
Maybe he could learn.
Then security called.
Matteo answered.
His face hardened.
“What?”
He listened.
Then looked at me.
“Bell is gone.”
“What do you mean gone?”
“Left the building.”
“Did security stop him?”
“He used the service elevator during shift change.”
“Can he do that?”
“No.”
My stomach tightened.
“Where’s the blanket?”
Matteo asked into the phone.
Silence.
His face turned cold.
“He took it?”
Another pause.
Then:
“Lock the building.”
I looked toward Leah.
Still sleeping.
Good.
Matteo ended the call.
“The evidence bag is empty.”
“Bell took it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Before he could answer, Leah began crying in her sleep.
Not loud.
Broken little sounds.
I went to her.
She did not wake.
“Mommy no.”
I sat beside her.
“Mommy no blue.”
Matteo stood behind me.
Leah whispered another word.
A name.
At first I did not understand it.
“Arfur.”
Matteo stopped breathing.
I looked at him.
“Arthur?”
Leah’s eyes opened.
She saw Matteo.
Then grabbed me.
“Arthur blue room.”
Matteo’s face became terrifyingly still.
“What did Arthur do?”
I asked gently.
Leah pressed her face into my arm.
“No tell Daddy.”
Matteo looked like the floor had disappeared beneath him.
I kept my voice soft.
“Why not tell Daddy?”
Her answer came muffled.
“Arthur says Daddy go away.”
Every part of the room changed.
Matteo stepped back.
I felt Leah trembling.
“Did Arthur tell you Daddy would go away if you talked about the blue room?”
A tiny nod.
Matteo whispered:
“I’m going to kill him.”
Leah screamed.
I turned sharply.
“Matteo.”
He froze.
That rage again.
Exactly what scared her.
I pointed toward the hallway.
“Go.”
His face hardened.
“Excuse me?”
“Go somewhere else until you can come back without sounding like the thing she fears.”
Nobody spoke to Matteo Duca that way.
I knew it.
He knew it.
Rosa definitely knew it.
He stared at me.
Then at Leah.
His anger cracked.
He turned.
Walked out.
No slammed door.
No shouted order.
Just leaving.
Three minutes later, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Then answered.
“Nora Hale?”
A man’s voice.
“Yes?”
“Stay away from the blue room.”
My blood went cold.
“Who is this?”
“You’re the fifteenth.”
A pause.
“The others were smarter.”
The call ended.
I stared at the screen.
Then looked toward the hallway.
At the blue door.
May you like
And for the first time, I understood something worse than a haunted room.
Someone in that house had been watching me since I arrived.
