Chapter 3

Ellie's hands shook as she stepped back, her intent to leave the kitchen. A giggle stopped her. She turned slowly, her eyes scanning every corner of the room. Movement out of the corner of her eye had her swinging in that direction. She could have sworn she'd seen him by the doorway, but when she looked there was nothing.

Just get to the library. There was a phone there and she could call for help.

She turned and started to run, but before she reached the doorway, she felt little hands push at the back of her knees and Ellie stumbled, falling towards the open doorway to her right. She screamed as she fell, her body tumbling down the rickety old wooden steps. Her body lay at the bottom, bruised and in pain. It took her a minute to catch her breath after the fall.

The sound of a young child giggling drew her attention to the top of the stairs. She could see him there. All she could make out was his shape because of the way he stood with his back to the light, but It sent shivers of panic through her. Ellie pushed herself up into a sitting position, her muscles yelling in protest. She scooted herself backwards, away from him, looking for a weapon of any kind. All she found close was dust and cobwebs on the cold cement floor of the basement.

The slamming of the door made her jump and she found herself in complete darkness. Had he come in? Or had he locked her in? Ellie scrambled to find her feet and walked forward, her hands out-stretched. She'd seen a hanging light in the center of the room. Cold metal met her fingers and she grabbed it, pulling the string and bathing the room in harsh light.

Her first thought was to search for Brahms. She hadn't heard him come down the stairs so she glanced up and saw just the closed door. She turned her attention back to the basement and her search for a weapon. Boxes on top of boxes are piled up on each other. The first stack is labeled Halloween and the second is Christmas. She moves on, hoping to find a bat or something she can use, but the name on the next box her eyes land on stops her cold. Elizabeth Hampstead. More names mark the boxes under and around it.

Ellie pulls it down and opens it, dread in the pit of her stomach. The first thing she pulls out of the box is a bloody shirt. It's slashed, and dried blood flakes off when she moves the material.

Elizabeth hadn't gone home to London. Brahms killed her and they'd buried the evidence in the basement. A quick look confirmed her suspicions. A phone and some other personal items were in the box. Ellie opened up more of the boxes and found more bloody clothes. How many nannies had died here and been forgotten? How many murders had his parents covered up?

Did they plan on Ellie joining the other nannies? Would she have a brown box with her name that held her belongings and the clothes she died in?

No.

She'd get out of this. She was smart and she understood what was going on. All she had to do was get to the library and the phone. She'd call the police or emergency services. Survive a few more hours and she'd be fine.

Ellie gave up on finding a weapon down here and took the stairs two at a time, her determination giving her speed and courage. Much to her surprise, the door wasn't locked and a thought occurred to her. He had wanted her to find those boxes. Seeing what was inside of them would terrify her. It hadn't though. The contents of those boxes only renewed her strength and perseverance to survive this night. If that had been his plan, it backfired. Ellie Matthews wasn't someone who laid down and gave up. She was a fighter.

The kitchen was exactly as it had been before, food everywhere. She wasted no time in getting out of there, her eyes hunting the shadows for Brahms. She made it back to the main hall before she heard him. It was more of a shuffling than footsteps, but it unnerved her. She couldn't tell which direction it came from and she felt his eyes on her, watching, calculating his next move.

The phone shone like a beacon of light and she ran for it.

"No, no, no, no!" Frustration howled inside of her. She pushed the clicker several times trying to get a dial tone, but it was completely dead. The lines must be out due to the storm.

She pulled the curtains aside and a haze of white met her. The snow was falling so fast and so heavily, she couldn't see. No one would even attempt to get here in this storm. Morning was the earliest emergency services would be out checking on people. The Heelshires would be home today and she was more than sure that some of the staff would return to make sure the house was ready for their return.

Ellie just had to wait him out. She was safe in here. She hoped.

After starting a fire, Ellie looked around her. Bookshelves lined every wall, crammed full of books. In any other situation, she would have been jumping for joy. She loved books. Now, they held no interest for her. Instead, she found herself staring at the portrait on the wall. It was a painting of Brahms, the boy. He looked about eight or so. Dark hair and even darker eyes seemed to emanate menace. His expression was sour. That child had not been a happy boy. He looked...evil.

Maybe his father had something on his desk that would help her. He'd told her before that he used the library as his personal office, but she was welcome to any of the books inside. The desk was piled high with papers and random books. It seemed more of a jumbled mess than the organized workstation she'd supposed he used.

Ellie gingerly moved papers around, searching. It wasn't long before she hit jackpot. There was a folder with Brahms name on it and a pile of journals under it. It was his father's personal journals and she was betting she'd find answers in there.

There might be hope yet.