Deadly Silence (complete) Chapter 90

Vivian had decided to tackle digging up information the next day, Sunday. Asking Samuel directly was out of the question; what would she even be asking for anyway? Paul hadn’t specified what he wanted her to find.

With little instruction and no direction, she decided on looking at it from a broader perspective. There was no way she knew what to look for so now she planned to look for anything at all. Whether interesting or mundane, it all counted. Since the topic hadn’t been specified it gave Vivian wiggle room.

The chat she’d had with Samuel Friday evening, when he’d told her what he knew and how he’d come to his conclusions regarding the Wednesday shower incident had shown Vivian a new way of processing information available to her.

Paul was looking for something, probably something specific, and not telling Vivian what that was? That was normal. It made it difficult for her to succeed, which was what he wanted; he liked setting things up to be difficult and took pleasure when you failed. But he also wanted success — he expected you to eventually give him what he asked for.

So he was expecting her to find nothing for at least the first check in on Monday, probably Thursday as well. Saturday she would need to give him something or risk punishment.

A chill ran down her spine at the thought. Until she’d turned eight Vivian had suffered punishments for the smallest infractions. He’d always told her it was out of love, that she had to learn, and maybe from his perspective that was what he truly believed; but from her point of view it hadn’t been love that drove him to lock her in a closet for hours on end, to deprive her of food except bread and butter, or strike her down when she wasn’t being the perfect little girl.

Annie had fared worse. Looking back now, Vivian could see how much her mother suffered, shielding her daughter from the true ferocity of that man.

Snapping herself free from the memories, Vivian took her spot at the window and waited. It was just after eleven when Samuel exited the house and got in his car. Once he left, she had around two hours to snoop without anyone the wiser.

Waiting an extra five minutes, just to be safe, Vivian finally left her room. None of the household staff worked on Sundays unless something was going on, meaning Vivian was home alone. Laurent was out, as usual; Sebastian had his own life going on, whatever that entailed; and Gabriel spent his weekends working on the car he still called Sandra.

Only one place would hold anything of worth for Paul, and that was Samuel’s office. Luckily, the man didn’t lock it for the most part, knowing his sons knew better than to sneak in when he wasn’t around. Vivian, on the other hand, did know better but didn’t have much choice in the matter.

Nervous at being caught even with the large window of time before Samuel would return, she entered his office and began to snoop.

The top of his desk was meticulously organized, as though more for show than actual work. His laptop was closed and she didn’t dare touch it; this was more of a basic recon than in-depth snoop. None of the papers on the desk were interesting, looking more like some kind of reports for staff at one of his businesses. Boring.

The drawers were next. The bottom most one had multiple file folders in it, but again they were all about things that didn’t catch her attention in the least. Middle drawer was office supplies, all neatly organized. Did her father have OCD? She’d never seen a desk this well organized — at least not one that was used on the regular.

Now at the top drawer, she pulled it open and flipped through the topmost folder, stopping at the second page. A frown creased her brow as she sat in his chair to look through the file more carefully.

It was all about Detective Amelia Mersey. Childhood, teen years, post secondary, academy training… Reports on when she was on patrol… Had Samuel done a background check on the detective after she’d taken Vivian without permission?

From what she learned skimming the contents, Amelia was just your average, ambitious person. Her parents had worked blue collar jobs and seemed like they’d been decent people, so her childhood had been the usual. Her marks in school were above average, as were those from the university she’d attended for a year before dropping out and joining the police academy. Five years on patrol before being promoted to detective… It all seemed pretty normal to Vivian. Nothing interesting to note.

The second file folder proved much more interesting. This one was about Detective Paul Oglivie.

Vivian stared at the first page with wide eyes, heart racing. The file wasn’t very thick compared to Detective Mersey’s, but it was still something. There wasn’t much she knew about the man’s past if she was being honest. Was there something in here that might help her escape from his clutches? Did she have time to really sit and study it?

Pulling out her phone, it took Vivian a minute to calm her shaking hands, taking a photo of each page before slipping the folders back into the drawer and closing it again.

The drawers on the opposite side of the desk proved just as boring as the first two, though the topmost was locked tight. Best to leave it alone for now.

A half hour had passed and she’d already found one interesting thing — to her, anyway — but it wouldn’t be enough. The more she found today the longer she could take to feed it to him, extending the time she had to figure a way out of this mess.

There was a filing cabinet, but the drawers were all locked. No where she looked did a key materialize so Vivian gave up on getting inside.

A stand with some glass containers holding clear or amber coloured liquid turned out to be decanters for alcohol. She’d twisted the stopper off one and, after taking a quick whiff, grimaced as her nose burned. Inside the cabinet of the stand were different sized glasses, most likely for drinking said alcohol.

One of the walls was made up of bookshelves, each full of different sized volumes. Vivian scanned the spines, finding the selection of literature a little eclectic. Politics, economy, geography, history… all the way to classic literature from well known authors such as Edgar Allan Poe, Isaac Asimov, J.R.R. Tolkien and more. It was all organized by genre, then alphabetically by last name.

Wondering if he’d notice a single book missing if she were to borrow one to read later on, Vivian pulled out a volume on a random shelf. Le Morte d’Arthur. It was a thick book and had the feel of one that was rarely touched.

Shrugging a bit, she went to place it back in its spot when Vivian noted something strange.