Chapter 2 - THE CLICK INSIDE THE DOLL
The tiny click seemed to hang in the nursery long after the sound itself had disappeared.
Dominic stared at the doll.
Then at the triplets.
Then back at Lily.
“Do that again,” he said.
Lily shook her head.
“No.”
Her answer was quiet, but firm.
Dominic had spent most of his adult life around people who said no only when they wanted something from him.
Lily wasn't bargaining.
She was protecting something.
He glanced at Rachel.
“Does that doll belong to her?”
Rachel nodded.
“My mother made it for her.”
“When?”
“Before she passed.”
Something about Rachel's voice changed when she said it.
Dominic noticed.
He noticed everything when something didn't fit.
“How long has Lily had it?”
“Since she was born.”
Dominic looked at the doll again.
Its faded blue dress had been repaired several times.
One arm had a crooked seam.
A tiny white button was missing from its chest.
It looked harmless.
But the triplets were watching it as though it were the only safe object in the room.
Dr. Grant stepped closer.
“May I see it?”
Lily immediately moved backward.
“No.”
Dr. Grant stopped.
“Okay.”
The doctor's calm response seemed to reassure the girl.
Dominic crouched again.
“You don't have to give it to me.”
Lily looked at him.
“Good.”
A strange almost-smile crossed Dominic's face.
“Why does it make that clicking sound?”
Lily hesitated.
“Mommy says not to open it.”
Rachel went pale.
“Lily.”
The little girl looked at her mother.
“She said only Grandma knew.”
Dominic's eyes narrowed.
“Your mother said that?”
Lily nodded.
Rachel looked confused.
“I never said that.”
Lily frowned.
“Yes, you did.”
“When?”
“Last Christmas.”
Rachel stared at her daughter.
“I don't remember.”
Lily hugged the doll.
“You were crying.”
Rachel's face changed.
Dominic saw it immediately.
There was a memory Rachel had not shared.
Before he could ask, Caleb started fussing.
Not crying.
Just a small unhappy sound.
Lily immediately placed the doll on the carpet beside the chair.
Caleb stopped.
Dominic watched him.
The boy's eyes remained fixed on the doll.
“Has this happened before?” he asked.
Rachel shook her head.
“Not like this.”
“Think.”
She closed her eyes.
“Sometimes they get upset when Lily visits.”
Dominic turned.
“Visits?”
Rachel nodded.
“She comes to the staff wing with me.”
“How often?”
“Most afternoons.”
“And the children always react?”
“Sometimes.”
Dominic looked at Lily.
“Have they ever touched your doll?”
Lily shook her head.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because they know.”
Dominic frowned.
“They know what?”
Lily looked toward the triplets.
“They don't like the bad sound.”
The room went quiet again.
Dominic slowly reached for his phone.
“Call security.”
Rachel looked alarmed.
“Why?”
“I want the nursery searched.”
“For what?”
“Anything that could explain this.”
Dr. Grant nodded.
“That is reasonable.”
Dominic didn't tell them what he was thinking.
He was thinking about the last six months.
The triplets had begun having unexplained episodes shortly after the nursery renovation.
Nothing dramatic.
Poor sleep.
Sudden crying.
Night terrors.
Fear of certain corners.
His staff had blamed separation anxiety.
Then teething.
Then developmental changes.
Dominic had accepted those explanations because they were convenient.
Now he wasn't so sure.
Two security officers entered.
Dominic ordered them to inspect the room.
They checked the windows.
The vents.
The crib mattresses.
The furniture.
Nothing.
Then one officer crouched near the chair.
“Sir.”
Dominic walked over.
The officer pointed underneath it.
There was a small brass object attached to the bottom of the chair.
It looked like a coin-sized sensor.
Dr. Grant examined it.
“This isn't part of the nursery equipment.”
Dominic's expression hardened.
“Remove it.”
The officer carefully detached it.
A tiny green light blinked.
Dominic stared at it.
“What's that?”
“Could be a transmitter.”
The room changed instantly.
Rachel looked frightened.
Dominic turned toward her.
“Who has access to this room?”
She began listing names.
Nannies.
Cleaners.
Maintenance.
Security.
Family.
Dominic stopped her.
“Who installed the chair?”
Rachel thought.
“I don't know.”
One of the security officers checked the chair.
“There are fresh screw marks.”
Dominic's jaw tightened.
Someone had put the device there recently.
He looked toward the doll.
Then at Lily.
“Does anyone else have one of those?”
Lily nodded.
“One is in Mommy's room.”
Rachel stared.
“What?”
Lily looked at her mother.
“Behind the picture.”
Rachel's face went white.
Dominic turned to security.
“Check it.”
The officer left.
Thirty seconds later, he returned holding another transmitter.
Same size.
Same green light.
Dominic felt the first real chill move through him.
Someone had been listening.
Maybe for weeks.
Maybe longer.
Dr. Grant looked at the triplets.
“Could these devices be causing the reaction?”
“Possibly,” Dominic said.
She shook her head.
“Not necessarily. The children may be reacting to an ultrasonic signal we haven't identified.”
Dominic looked at the doll.
“Then why does moving it make them cry?”
Nobody answered.
Lily did.
“Because it goes away.”
Dominic turned toward her.
“What goes away?”
“The safe sound.”
Rachel stared at her daughter.
“What safe sound?”
Lily touched the doll's stomach.
“This.”
She tilted it.
Click.
Caleb immediately relaxed.
Ethan's shoulders dropped.
Rose sighed.
Dominic stepped closer.
“Lily, what's inside?”
The child shook her head.
“Mommy said I can't tell.”
Rachel looked overwhelmed.
“I honestly don't know what she's talking about.”
Lily looked at her mother.
“You do.”
Rachel's eyes filled with tears.
“No, sweetheart.”
“You showed me.”
“When?”
Lily pointed toward the hallway.
“After Grandpa left.”
Dominic froze.
“What grandfather?”
Rachel didn't answer.
Lily looked at Dominic.
“Your father.”
Dominic felt the room disappear around him.
His father had been dead for four years.
He had never met Lily.
And yet the child had just said his father had shown her something.
Dominic slowly turned toward Rachel.
“What did my father show my maid's daughter?”
Rachel's mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Then the security officer's radio crackled.
“Sir?”
Dominic turned.
The officer was holding something inside a clear evidence bag.
A photograph.
Old.
Creased.
And unmistakably connected to the Caruso family.
Dominic took one look at it.
His face went completely still.
Because standing beside his father in the photograph was a woman Dominic had believed had died twenty-six years earlier.
His mother.
May you like
And in her arms was a baby.
A baby wearing the same bracelet Rose was wearing tonight.
