Chapter 11 - The Locked RoomNobody spoke.
Oliver kept smiling.
"The upstairs room."
"My grandfather's study."
My father frowned.
"There is no study."
"There is now."
Oliver looked directly at me.
"You've lived here for five years."
"You never wondered why one door was always locked?"
I froze.
There had always been one room at the end of the upstairs hallway.
Oliver always said it contained old electrical equipment.
Whenever I walked near it...
He became strangely angry.
"Don't go in there."
"I'll handle it."
I never questioned him.
Until now.
The detective looked toward two officers.
"Open it."
Oliver laughed.
"You'll need more than a key."
Five minutes later...
A locksmith drilled through the antique lock.
The heavy oak door slowly creaked open.
Dust drifted into the hallway.
The room was dark.
Silent.
Untouched.
Or so it seemed.
My father stepped inside first.
Then stopped.
"What..."
His voice broke.
The walls were covered with photographs.
Hundreds of them.
May you like
Every single one...
Was of me.
