“If whoever abducted Taylor was in the passageway behind the fireplace and entered our room shortly after the last time I checked on her,” I say, “then he or she had about a fifteen- or twenty-minute head start.”
We are back on the first floor in the main part of the house. Keith and Christopher are leading Roderick and me back to their residence.
“Which was plenty of time to get her out of the house,” I continue. “But since we could all see the front door, they had to use the back door.”
With everyone but the four of us outside searching for Taylor or watching the doors, the house seems even bigger and simultaneously quieter and creakier.
“The fact that everyone from the night Magdalene was abducted was in the parlor and dining room with you when it happened bolsters the theory that it was someone from outside of the house who broke in,” Roderick says.
“Not everyone from that night was with us,” I say. “Hal Raphael wasn’t. Neither was Rake Sabin for much of the time, who was supposed to be up there watching him.”
“Oh, that’s right.”
“And neither was Henrique Arango,” I say, “but he was with us in the parlor the entire time he was here and we saw him leave through the front door and we have a witness—Derinda Dacosta—who followed him out.”
“Plus he’s a sick old man,” he says. “I know we can’t be 100 percent certain, but I think we got the roadblocks up before whoever has her would’ve been able to leave town with her.”
“That’s why a thorough search, beginning in the house and moving outward is so critical,” I say.
Keith unlocks the door leading to their residence and we walk down the short hallway, around a laundry basket of folded sheets, a cleaning cart, and a couple of boxes of Halloween decorations.
When we arrive in the residence kitchen, Christopher, who still hasn’t uttered a word, collapses into one of the chairs at the table.
Keith says, “Do you want me to lead you through or do you want us to sit here while you look around?”
“If you don’t mind,” I say, “probably go quicker with you taking us through.”
He shakes his head. “Of course not. Don’t mind at all. Want to do anything I can to help you find your daughter.” He looks down at Christopher. “You okay to sit here for a minute while I show them around?”
He nods. “I’m fine. I’m just done. This just brings it all up again and I’m completely spent. Having nothing left.”
“Just sit here and rest. We’ll be back in a minute. You want some water or anything?”
“Just go. I’m okay.”
“Okay. I’ll be back in just a few. Let me dim the lights in here for you. Lay your head down on the table and rest.”
Keith turns on the small light under the oven hood and then turns off the harsh overhead light.
“We can start with this supply closet,” he says, indicating the first door of the hallway leading back toward the bed and breakfast part of the house.
He steps over and opens the door and turns on the light inside.
“We mostly keep the B&B supplies in here, but there are a few of our own also.”
Roderick and I step over and look inside.
It’s a ten by ten closet with floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with cleaning supplies, boxes of small hotel toiletries, pillows, blankets, sheets, wall art, and various other random guest services supplies.
There is nowhere inside big enough for Taylor to be hidden.
As we step back, Keith quickly grabs the boxes, laundry basket, and cleaning cart from the hallway and puts them inside the closet before closing the door.
“What is that flickering?” Christopher says.
We turn to see him sitting up and looking down the other end of the hallway at Magdalene’s bedroom door.
“It’s . . .” He jumps up. “Look. See that. Flickering lights and shadows. Someone is in Magdalene’s room.”
We follow his gaze to the light and movement coming from beneath the closed door of Magdalene’s room.
He’s right. It appears as if someone is inside her room.
I glance at Keith. “Did y’all leave any lights on in there?”
His eyes are as wide as Christopher’s, his expression just as anxious and perplexed.
“No,” he says. “Never. There’s no light like that in there anyway. That looks like— Is it a fire?”
Roderick and I both withdraw our weapons and, holding them down at our sides, move over to the door.
He puts his hand on the knob and looks at me.
I nod.
He turns the knob and pushes open the door.
And we stare in shock and horror at the body of the little girl on the bed.