Chapter 37 - The Music Box
Eli's aunt, Maria Warren, arrived at headquarters just before midnight.
She held the boy so tightly that he could barely breathe, whispering apologies into his wet hair again and again. But when Arthur asked about the music box, her face went pale.
"I promised his mother I would never bring it out unless someone said Elena Hale's name."
Arthur stepped closer.
"Maria, that time has come."
She looked at Eli.
Then she nodded.
The music box was hidden inside a locked suitcase beneath her bed. Two federal agents escorted her home and returned with it under armed guard.
It was small, wooden, and old-fashioned, with a painted lake on the lid.
Lake Arden.
Arthur recognized the artwork immediately.
"Elena painted this," he said quietly.
Maria covered her mouth.
"She gave it to my sister the night before she died."
The room became silent as Eli turned the tiny brass key.
A soft melody began playing.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then Arthur noticed the ballerina inside the box did not spin smoothly. It paused every third turn, clicking against a hidden catch.
"Stop," Arthur said.
Eli froze.
Arthur carefully lifted the velvet lining.
Beneath it was a thin metal plate.
Mercer helped remove it.
Inside the hidden compartment lay a strip of microfilm, a folded note, and a small silver key.
The note contained only one sentence.
The first list is false. The second list is blood.
Collins read it twice.
"What does that mean?"
Arthur held the microfilm up to the light.
"It means the names we've found may have been planted."
Mercer stared at him.
"Then who is on the real list?"
Arthur looked at the silver key in his palm.
"I don't know."
But the key bore a tiny engraving.
Not a number.
Not initials.
A symbol of a bell tower.
Maria whispered, "There was an old church near the lake."
Arthur nodded slowly.
"St. Bartholomew's."
Eli looked up.
"My mom used to take me there."
Outside the headquarters window, dawn began to color the sky.
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But far away near Lake Arden, inside the abandoned church bell tower, someone had already found the old lock.
And as the first light touched the broken stained glass, a gloved hand turned a different key before Arthur ever arrived.
