The Mansion

The winding road led to a winding driveway. Lydia didn’t even realize it was a driveway at first. When Ethan paused outside of the imposing gilded gate and entered a code into the box beside the road, she assumed they were entering a gated community. The mature woods on either side of the narrow path were shadows, and Lydia couldn’t tell how deep they went, but understated and classic streetlamps threw gentle arcs of light onto the road. The light mist that had captivated her earlier-in her old life, before all of this- turned into a steady rain, and Lydia watched the light captured in the drops that fell across her window.

            When the road ended in a circular drive with only one home centered behind it, Lydia gasped. The home looked like a monument to the past, brick and colonial in the front with perfectly symmetrical narrow windows outlined in white shutters on the first and second floors. Two wings angled off of the main house, however- add ons, but done so well that they blended in with the overall charm of the home. Two wide steps led to the oversized, grand blue door, framed in white to match the windows. Lydia counted four chimneys in the roofline.

            The hedges were manicured to perfection, even as the warmth of summer left earlier and earlier every day and the cool winds of September brought a chill to the hair. She shivered, hugging her arms around herself as she stood next to the car, taking the grandiose home in.

            “Lydia,” the door opened and there, with warm yellow tinted light surrounding her like a halo, the woman from the phone screen stood, gesturing for her to come inside. “It’s so wet and cold out there,” she said, ushering them through the door.

            Lydia followed her inside, Ethan closing the door softly behind them. “Are you alright?” the woman was assessing both of them, noting the red marks on Lydia’s face with a look of concern. “What a night,” she muttered.

            “I’m alright,” Lydia assured her. “I would love to know what is happening.”

            The older woman nodded once, and Lydia followed her through the great entry hall- complete with an unbelievably detailed, carved, double wooden staircase- and through French doors into a large, classically decorated office. The woman sat down at a dark wooden table and invited Lydia to sit with her.

            “Samantha is making some tea. I thought you’d be chilled. It’ll be in in just a moment.” Lydia nodded gratefully. “In the meantime, have a look at these, if you will.” She slid a stack of papers over to Lydia, and Lydia felt her professional habits taking over. Her brain sharpened and her mind calmed, and she began reading the stack eagerly.

            Doctor Huntington was more than a terrible doctor and a criminal. He was part of a long reaching family of criminals. The spoiled, youngest son of a stock trader had cheated and lied his way through undergrad, but he was smart enough to make it through medical school and pass his exams- if only barely. Before her lay file after file of records that had been conveniently hidden for years- wrecked cars, drunken stupors, bar fights, assaulted waitresses and a whole host of other petty crimes. All charges dropped, all hidden and whisked away as if they’d never happened.

            “This girl,” the woman said, tapping a photo paperclipped to one of the files, “did not make it out of the ordeal.”

            “He killed her?” Lydia asked, incredulous.

            “He got drunk and ran his car into the driver’s side of her car, while she was sitting in it. She lived for three days before she died, but yes, he killed her.”

            Lydia slumped back into her seat. A woman in pajamas brought in a tray filled with hot water and several different tea bags to choose from, and Lydia absent mindedly thanked her and chose a purple bag, dipping it into the mug closest to her.

            “I don’t understand what any of this has to do with me,” she said finally. “Are you offering me the story? I would love to cover it.”

            Ethan, sitting quietly to her left, scoffed. She cut a glance at him and then returned her attention to the woman with the kind eyes.

            “No, not at all,” the woman said. “I’m explaining to you why this has happened. Jared Huntington has a storied past, and his family is eager to get this event tidied up as well as the others. We were hopeful that we could handle this matter without involving anyone else, but things have escalated.”

            Lydia stared at her. “Meaning?” she asked quietly, not unkindly.

            “Jared has gone missing. We believe his family has him in hiding, possibly in another country, and they’re acting quickly to kill the story. They thought that quieting the two journalists working on the story would prevent anyone else from attempting to cover it.”

            “That’s ridiculous,” Lydia said.

            “I don’t disagree,” the woman nodded.

            “Killing us would only draw more attention to the whole thing.”

            “I don’t think they initially intended to kill you,” she answered. “I think they intended to scare you. Angela… she fought back too hard, and they lost control of the situation. A different group of people were sent to your house, and I think their intent was to make a lot of noise and chaos, hurt you, and hope that you’d get the hint and stop writing about the subject before it became too well known.”

            “That’s why they broke my window,” Lydia said. “They were so loud and abrupt-“

            “Trying to scare you,” the woman repeated.

            “It worked,” Lydia said, holding the warm mug in both hands. She couldn’t comprehend the absurdity of it all. An entire family with all the right connections, capable of making inconvenient things disappear at will. It only ever happened in movies.

            “You can stay upstairs, in the guest suite. We have armed guards in the gate house at the end of the drive and camped out on either side throughout the woods, and the property is surrounded by fencing and security,” the woman said. “You’ll be very safe here.”

            “I can’t just stay here,” Lydia protested quietly. “That’s very kind of you, I think, although I’m still not sure who you are.”

            “I’m so sorry,” the woman shook her head. “In all of the chaos, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Sandra. I own a security firm and we have a vested interested in this case.” She smoothed invisible wrinkles from her cream colored pants, her gaze briefly leaving Lydia’s face. “It’s personal,” she finally added. Lydia kept her face neutral and filed that piece of information away for later, when she had more energy. She was exhausted.

            “Well, Sandra, you have a lovely home. But I don’t have my cell phone or my lap top or a change of clothes, a tooth brush, my toiletries kit, nothing-“

            “The closet is fully stocked with everything you’ll need for a few days,” Sandra said. “I’ll have a phone brought to the house tomorrow, and we’ll make some plans for the immediate future first thing in the morning, when we’ve all had some rest and some time to process.”

            Lydia glanced once more around the classically decorated study and sighed. There were worse places to spend a weekend. She placed her cup down on the tray and stood, following Samantha toward the French doors. She hesitated and turned back toward Sandra and Ethan, both still seated at the little round table.

            “Thank you,” she said, her voice still quiet. “I’m not exactly sure of the extent to which I should be thanking you, but it seems you’ve saved my life. I don’t know what to say about that. Thank you.”

            A pained expression again crossed Ethan’s face, his handsome features turning almost instantly back into a stony façade of indifference, but she’d seen the slight change in him. She offered him a tentative smile, waved at them both, and followed Samantha up the stairs.

            The guest suite was, in fact, more like an apartment. Samantha opened a heavy wooden door and showed Lydia into a seating area complete with a small cream colored sofa and two matching chairs, all with mahogany wood trim that matched the two large frames of the artwork on the walls, each depicting some form of rain storm. The walls were pale blue and the wood trim that would have looked dated in her own small home only looked classic here, amid all of the timelessness of the house. The carpet was clean and plush and an antique Persian rug in shades of blue sat beneath the sofa. There were end tables and a large television, and against the wall to her left was a coffee bar.

            Samantha pushed open double doors behind the sofa and revealed a massive king bed, made with a fluffy white duvet and far too many pillows.

            “That door leads to the on suite,” Samantha said, pointing to a door on the other side of the bed. “And that one is to the closet. The doors in the sitting area lead to the balcony, but it’s probably best to avoid it for now, just to be safe.”

            Lydia glanced behind her. She’s completely missed the other set of double doors, these across from the entry to the suite. Heavy curtains hung over them, matching the curtains that hung over the windows in the bedroom.

            “If you need anything at all, my room is just downstairs, and Ethan’s room is just across the hallway,” Samantha said. She reached out and touched Lydia’s arm gently. “Are you alright?”

            Lydia smiled at her, thankful for the kind look in the other woman’s eyes. “I think I’ll be alright,” she said. “This is all just so…”

            Samantha nodded. “Yes,” she said. “It is.”

            She left the room, closing the door quietly behind her, and Lydia twisted the lock into place. She walked back through the bedroom and peeked into the bathroom, noting with muted surprise the size of the room and the hot-tub sized bath tub. The separate shower was big enough to fit five or six people in, and the beautiful mirror could have been an art piece in and of itself.

            But the biggest surprise was the closet.

            It felt more like a small department store. The sections were organized by size, and Lydia was thrilled to see her own size- sixteen- well stocked with jeans and t shirts, sweat pants and hoodies, dresses and jackets in various colors. The wall of drawers in the back held underwear and pajamas in various sizes, and to the left, an entire breakaway section held shoes: sandals, sneakers, and light wedges in various sizes.

            Overwhelmed, Lydia backed out of the room and closed the door without taking anything. Instead, she went back into the bathroom and peeled her clothes off, took a long, hot shower, and wrapped herself in the clean robe hanging on the back of the door. She found toiletries under the sink and after brushing her teeth, she collapsed into the bed and fell asleep.