Page 38 of Scarred By Sin

The ones who come at night.

17

Brooklyn Sloane

July 2026

Thursday — 4:27 pm

Brook had been waiting in the dining room for the better part of forty-five minutes.

She’d come back downstairs after speaking with Gwenyth and found herself restless in a way that didn’t suit her. What she wanted was to return to the greenhouse and search for an access point to whatever lay beneath it. Check the foundation, flooring, and perimeter for any signs of a hatch, a stairwell, or a sealed entrance. But Dale was on his way, and she wasn’t about to be caught searching the grounds when he arrived. Their conversation needed to happen first.

So, she waited.

She ate the last of her blueberries. She reviewed the notes on her tablet from her previous conversations with Gwenyth. And she kept one ear on the foyer. The afternoon light through the curtain gap had moved from the floor to the far wall and was now climbing toward the ceiling, marking the time in a way that somehow felt slower than the clock.

Bit was at the far end of the table, running through traffic camera footage and cross-referencing timestamps. He’d glanced at her twice in the last ten minutes, which meant he could sense she was wound tight and was choosing not to comment on it.

The front door slammed hard enough to rattle the foyer windows.

Brook was on her feet before Dale appeared in the dining room doorway. His silhouette filled the frame, backlit by the foyer sconce, and even before he spoke, the energy he brought into the house was enough to change the air pressure in the room.

“I’d like to know why you thought it was your right to tell my niece about Porter.”

Dale’s face was flushed, his jaw tight, and the careful composure he’d worn during their previous interactions had been replaced by something rawer. He was angry, and he wasn’t interested in concealing it.

“Gwenyth is an adult, Mr. Ellingham.” Brook had thought long and hard about her decision to ignore his request. After her discussion with Gwenyth, Brook had sent a text to Dale, informing him that she’d already broken the news to his niece. “She had a right to know, and she had a right to hear it from someone who could deliver the information without an agenda attached to it.”

“An agenda.” Dale’s mouth twisted around the word. “I am her family.”

“You are. And she is a grown woman who is capable of receiving difficult news on her own terms.”

“She is obviously sick. Not of sound mind, and the fact that you people have been treating her as though she’s a reliable witness in a federal investigation is irresponsible at best.” Dale straightened the cuffs of his shirt in a sharp, agitated motion. “Tomorrow morning, first thing, I’m having my lawyer request an emergency hearing. Gwenyth needs to be placed in a facility where professionals can care for her, not left alone in a crumbling mansion with strangers who have no understanding of her condition. You can finish your investigation, but after that, I’d like you gone as soon as possible.”

Dale strode toward the staircase, his intention to go upstairs evident in every step. Brook followed him into the foyer, her flats quiet against the hardwood floor where his shoes struck with enough force to send echoes off the stone walls.

But the decision was taken from both of them.

Gwenyth appeared around the base of the staircase from the direction of the kitchen.

She was holding a plate with both hands. On it sat a sandwich, neatly assembled, cut diagonally. The bread was fresh, the edges trimmed, and the effort behind it said more about her state of mind than any clinical assessment could have. She stopped when she registered Dale standing in front of her, and something in her posture shifted into a stillness that Brook was beginning to recognize.

It wasn’t fear.

It wasn’t confusion.

It was an emotional wall going up behind eyes that were more present than Dale wanted to believe.

“I know about Porter,” Gwenyth said. Her voice was even. Controlled. “You can leave now, Dale.”

The use of his first name rather than “Uncle Dale” wasn’t lost on Brook.

“Gwenyth, you can’t stay here by yourself.” Dale took a step toward her, his hands open at his sides in a gesture that was meant to convey concern but landed somewhere closer to exasperation. “Porter is gone. There’s no one to look after you. No one to keep this property running. You need to come with me, and we’ll get you somewhere safe.”

“I’m not by myself.”

Gwenyth’s gaze shifted to Brook. It was brief, lasting no more than a second or two, but the message was unmistakable. Gwenyth had chosen a side, at least for the moment, and it wasn’t her uncle’s.