Page 57 of Willowbrooke
“I know.” William’s eyes met Leo’s. “Your father was alive and as well as he could be, given his diagnosis, when I left him.”
“And the nurse—I know you didn’t have an affair with her, but what was your impression of her?” Leo asked.
William took a beat to think about the question. “She joked with him, but was professional. I had confidence she knew what she was doing, and I was glad she was willing to put up with his shit.” William released a humorless laugh, recalling his best friend and business partner. “But I suppose, people like her, they fade into the background so easily. I never paid much attention to her. Never got to know her beyond George’s treatment plan and schedule.”
Leo nodded. He’d had the same experience with the woman.
William looked down at his phone again; it had chirped with a voicemail alert.
“I need to get going,” William said regretfully.
“If you need anything—” Leo offered.
“I will.” William gave him an understanding smile. Then he turned to me. “Take care of him, young lady.”
I grinned.
“You lucked out with her.” He turned back to Leo. “Don’t let her get away.”
Leo sighed through a smile, giving William a small wave as he backed out of the room, his footsteps dissipating as he ascended the stairs, leaving the two of us alone again.
“You heard him,” I joked. “You aresolucky.”
Leo closed the space between us, sweeping me into a hug, holding me tightly. He was upset and needed physical comfort. I returned the embrace.
“Very lucky…” he whispered, placing a soft kiss just below my ear, before stepping back. “I knew my dad was secretive, but I didn’t expect him to have a hidden lair.”
“Hope you didn’t have any plans for the day,” I laughed, picking up a folder from the desk.
“You’re willing to stay down here?” he asked seriously.
“We wanted answers, and we suddenly have the opportunity to get inside the mind of a dead man.” I cringed at the last two words—I hadn’t been thinking.
Leo didn’t seem to notice and took no offense. “There’s a lot to go through. What are we looking for exactly?” He began to examine the document piles on the desk.
“I’m not sure…” I trailed off. “But I do think William is right, your dad wouldn’t have told him about this place if he suspected him of hurting your mom.”
“True—but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have been responsible for what happened to Dad. We assumed it was the same person who committed both crimes, but it could have been different offenders.” Leo sighed.
Even with all the new information we had in front of us, I still felt like we were back at square one. I was overwhelmed with the possibilities, and the danger that still loomed over us.
For quite a few hours, Leo and I busied ourselves trying to make some sort of sense of how George had organized everything in his secret room. We shared insights as we discovered them, but came across nothing definitive that altered our perception of either death.
Mid-afternoon, the doorbell rang. Leo went to answer it, but I insisted on getting it, as I was unwilling to stay in the basement alone, even for a moment.
“Alright,” he conceded. “Any chance you’d bring down something for lunch? I’m starving.”
As if on cue, his stomach growled, leaving us both laughing.
On my way upstairs, I noticed something odd across the basement, along the far wall from George’s hideout. There was a mark scraped along the floor, as if someone had moved something recently, but I didn’t recall Leo or any of the workmen being down there. The wall was empty, with nofurniture that could easily explain the size and shape of the mark in the floor. The thought nagged at me as I made my way to the front door.
A delivery driver had an overnight package addressed to Leo that requested signature service. I didn’t think he was expecting anything, and I usually put my name on all orders for the house. I thought maybe it was an early Christmas present and set it aside to make a quick and late lunch for myself and Leo.
I had just finished gathering everything when I realized why the spot in the basement stood out. I recalled going through different versions of the blueprints I had ordered when I first started working at Willowbrooke, and noticed an anomaly in the basement between the original floor plans and one from the 1950’s.
Precariously balancing two plates and two bottles of water, I stopped by the library, where I had stored the printouts on my way back to Leo, intent on re-examining them with him.
“Who was it?” he asked, helping relieve me of the plates.
