Chapter 5
The Courthouse Room
The knocking stopped when Bell opened the case.
Inside were seven small recorders, each wrapped in wax paper. A ring of old brass keys rested beside them. No blood, no weapon, no photograph of Mara tied to a chair. The case contained the sort of order that made Elise more afraid than violence would have.
Bell lifted the top recorder.
“Don’t,” Elise said.
He looked at her. “You wanted to know what was inside.”
“I want to know who touched it last.”
“We can’t learn that by staring.”
“We can learn it by not destroying the surface.”
Bell set the recorder down.
On the lid, a label had been typed in block capitals: WITNESS 04 — ELISE HART.
Elise felt the room contract around her.
“Mara recorded me?”
“Possibly.”
“You said there were no copies in your possession.”
“I said I didn’t know about the case.”
“That is not the same thing either.”
Bell examined the brass keys. One carried a stamped number: 3B. Another bore the faded crest of Multnomah County. The third had no marking at all.
“The old courthouse had interview rooms beneath the records floor,” he said. “They were sealed years ago.”
“Why would Mara use one?”
“Maybe she didn’t.”
The tablet lit again.
A message appeared beneath the audio files.
WITNESS 04 has been verified.
Elise touched the screen. The system asked for a spoken confirmation.
Say: I consent to the record.
She pulled her hand back.
Bell read the prompt. “Do not say it.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Mara trained you not to answer leading questions?”
“Mara trained me to notice when a question had already decided what I meant.”
For a moment, Bell looked at her with something close to sympathy. It disappeared quickly.
His phone rang. The caller was Captain Rusk.
Bell answered, listened, and said, “That’s impossible.”
Elise watched the color leave his face.
He ended the call.
“What happened?”
“The department received a second missing-person report.”
“For Mara?”
“For you.”
Elise’s phone vibrated at the same moment.
An email had arrived from Northbank Audio. The subject line read: NOTICE OF VOLUNTARY ABSENCE — ELISE HART.
The message contained one attachment.
A photograph of Elise asleep in the upstairs bedroom.
The timestamp was 8:44 p.m.
Bell took one step toward her.
The front door unlocked again.
This time no one stood outside.
From the dark porch came Mara’s voice.
“Elise,” it called, “you promised me you would never let them record you sleeping.”