Chapter 5 The Strange File

MARIA'S POV

I've always admired libraries. As a teenager, I would sneak away from noise and from people just to remain between the rows of novels and breathe in the quietness of the library.

The library in Paul's residence was nothing like the minor and narrow ones I saw while I was growing up. It was luxurious with dark wooden racks spread to the top and lined with books I doubted anybody had opened in ages.

I didn't aim to find anything that day. I just desired to be somewhere no one else was. After all, with Paul and Celeste, I felt I needed space, and so the library was my proper rescue.

Sun rays poured into the library from the windows as I went between the racks. I ran my fingers along the spines of books with gold writing and titles I couldn't pronounce.

Some were written in Latin, while some looked hoary with vocabularies I had never come across plus fractured skin covers and yellowed pages, It was a quiet place to be.

I rested on one of the armchairs at an angle which was buried between two big shelves. I leaned my head back, closed my eyes, and just sighed. For a couple of minutes, I remained there with my eyes closed, and when I opened them, I stared ahead and straight at a half-opened drawer.

It was part of a low cabinet under one of the windows, concealed behind the curtains. Something about it looked out of place and I was drawn to it by interest.

When I tugged the drawer open, dust went up into the air and I coughed a few times before reclaiming my strength. Inside it was a leather-bound picture collection. It was heavy and tattered. The edges of the cover were wearing away, showing that it had been opened and closed a couple of times.

I paused, but later I opened it, and the first picture I saw was that of Paul in a younger age.

He was grinning in a manner I hadn't seen before, his smile was intense and real not the careful and courteous smile he wore now.

A woman was standing next to him, a woman with long black hair and sparkling eyes. She had one arm around his waist and the other resting on her small baby bump.

"This has to be Vivienne". I thought aloud.

She looked pretty, although hers is not like the extraordinary beauty one sees among the celebrities on television or social media, but her good looks still melt the heart, and her eyes had some goodness in them.

The next few pictures revealed the two of them at different places, a beach, a dinner party and another that looked like a baby shower. They looked cheerful and in love.

I don't know why I continued flipping the pages but I went on. Maybe I wished to understand Paul better, or I just chose to caution myself that even icy fellows like him had formerly cherished someone genuinely. I turned to another page and saw a picture that made me pause.

Vivienne was in a formal gown, staying in what looked like a clinic lobby. She was smirking and shaking hands with a fellow in a black suit. But the face of the man had been scraped out. It was not torn or faded but someone had purposely shaved it out with something sharp until nothing was left but white paper and deep cuts.

My heart thudded as I dashed my finger tenderly over the scrapes.

"Why would someone do this?" I asked.

I examined the picture and discovered that the man's physique was tall and broad, and he had black hair, but that was all I could see. Something about the picture felt important yet I didn't know why.

I delicately closed the album and shoved it back where I found it and I left the library afterwards. But I couldn't stop thinking about the scratched-out face. Those moments froze in time. Vivienne's smile, the clinic lobby but something didn't look appropriate to me.

Later that evening, I strolled downstairs because I was getting nervous again. Although, I told myself I was just getting some water, I still wanted to free my head.

As I went by the study, the door was lightly open. It didn't look like anybody was inside, even though the desk light was on, and it cast light across the place.

I gave it a quick thought and concluded this was my opportunity to see the restricted room. Then I gave it a second thought, I wasn't supposed to go in. But something kept drawing me in.

I tiptoed inside and the place smelled like old paper and cologne. "That's Paul's odour", I reflected to myself. His presence remained in the air.

There were heaps of papers on the counter, and a few files spread out. One was marked CONFIDENTIAL in bold red letters. I opened it and what I found in there almost explained my recent fears.

Inside were medical reports with names, dates, scans and notes from doctors. I flipped through the contents and I halted at a familiar face, which caused my mind to leap.

It was the same man from the picture I saw recently at the library. I was certain it was. His face wasn't scraped out here. He's name was written as Dr. Alaric Voss. A neurologist. His picture was clipped to a paper labelled "Subject: Vivienne Willow – Incident Review."

I leaned closer to examine the rows of text well.

"Head injury... coma... inconsistent vitals... possible tampering with medication?" "Wow!" I exclaimed. My fingers wobbled as I read those words.

"Tampering?" I thought.

I flipped another page and saw other details and more details. Some lines were blackened out. Some had awkward signs attached to them with Paul's initials jotted on the edge.

It didn't feel like an accident anymore.

I walked back from the desk with the file still open in my hands. My breathing had become shallow by now and my skin was constantly feeling cold.

"Why would this man's face be scraped out in a picture and so appear in a confidential medical record about Vivienne's condition?" I queried out loud.

Something wasn't right.

I closed the file and put all back as they were. I don't want to get caught, at least not until I find out what was going on.

As I turned to go, I heard voices and footsteps and the sharp sound of Paul's voice, which was muffled, but clear enough to hear a few words.

He was in the hallway and was speaking with Celeste but they didn't know I was there. Or so I thought.

"She found the file." Celeste's voice sounded, clipped.

"That means she knows too much already," Paul's voice replied.

"I think so. We have to be careful," Celeste answered.

My breath caught. They must have been watching me through the CCTV camera. Why didn't something remind me that in a house like this, there will be cameras everywhere?

"We can't afford any mistakes," Celeste added. "Not now."