Stacy's mansion was at the end of Seventeenth Street, in an open condominium with an exclusive alley for residents. It hadn't been long since Adam had last been there, but this time, there weren't as many flowers or teddy bears—it seemed like someone had removed some.
The house's paint had completely peeled off, revealing a very light pink color underneath, probably the mansion's original hue.
The classic style resembled any Rockefeller estate. The entrance gates were covered in vines, and the doorbell wasn't working, likely broken from years of neglect. Steven and Adam had to open the gates manually, producing a horrendous, ear-piercing sound.
Adam had never stepped beyond those gates before, and as soon as they opened, it felt as if he had been transported to a parallel universe—like that property was separate from the rest of the city, the country, the world.
To Steven, that mansion was nothing more than a massive mausoleum, serving only as a reminder that something terrible had happened there.
"They should have torn this place down." – Steven
"Should they? I don't think this is the most pleasant house in town, but tearing it down isn't the best idea either. Like it or not, the property still belongs to the family, so they should decide what to do with it." – Abrax
"Defending the American Dream before two in the afternoon, Abrax? You really are Jack's apprentice—you'll surpass him soon enough." – Steven, pointing at his watch.
"Hahaha, Jack wasn't even twelve when he started drinking whiskey and shot a bandit who invaded his father's farm. We're not even a fraction of what he is—or was—as a sheriff. We'll be lucky if we ever come close." – Jack
"Amen to that!" – Steven
The two officers got into their car and followed a small stone road leading up to the mansion's doors. Two narrow driveways circled around a fountain featuring two cherubs spitting water into the air.
"Wow, fancy! The fountain still works? Can you believe that?" – Steven
They got out of the car and climbed a few steps to the mansion's doors. Adam pressed a button on the side of the door but heard no sound or any indication that the bell was working.
So, he used two partially rusted door knockers—shaped like dragon heads.
"They really had money!" – Steven was impressed by the place.
It took two firm knocks before someone finally came to the door.
A maid answered, and with some difficulty—and the help of the two men—she managed to open the heavy doors. Adam and Steven identified themselves, and she quickly let them in, asking them to wait, as Geraldine would be down shortly.
The entrance hall was welcoming. A long staircase stood directly ahead, reminiscent of a small palace. The floor was modern porcelain, even for the era in which it was built—an elegant, yet radiant shade of rose.
It wasn't long before Geraldine descended the stairs, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
She wore an ornate kimono, adorned with golden dragons that stood out against the wine-colored fabric. Her hair was short and curly—likely permed regularly. It was the color of egg yolk, meaning she also dyed it. "A fake blonde," Adam thought.
"Gentlemen! Finally, you're here! I thought the Red Hollow police had forgotten about their biggest investors." – Geraldine
Adam and Steven exchanged glances. Jack had already warned Abrax that Geraldine was the flamboyant type.
"Miss Geraldine Mistake, I'm Adam Abrax, and this is Steven Maguire. As you know, we're with the police—I'm an investigator, and we're here to verify some information. We appreciate your cooperation." – Abrax
Geraldine swiftly descended the stairs like a dancer. She approached Adam, standing face to face with him, completely ignoring Steven's presence.
"An investigator, huh? You're a handsome young man, but you seem too young to be an investigator." – Geraldine
"Well, Miss Mistake, that's what everyone says. But you can trust my work—if you have any doubts, you can call Sheriff Jackson Constantine." – Abrax
"Jackson? I thought he was retired! Well, if Jackson sent you, then I trust you—because I trust him. Come, let's sit down, and you can ask me whatever you want. Would you like a drink?"
Geraldine led the two men into a glass-walled sitting room on the ground floor, giving them a lovely view of the garden on the left side of the house.
"It's a beautiful place. I like the atmosphere." – Abrax
"Oh, this? My second husband, David Mistake, added it. It's part of Feng Shui. Do you know it?" – Geraldine gestured with her whiskey glass.
"I've heard of it. By the way, do you mind if I call you Miss Mistake?" – Abrax
"Well, I've done everything I could to get rid of that scoundrel's last name, but it didn't work. So… now, 'Miss' is more appropriate. Please, no 'Mrs.'—we're practically the same age." – Geraldine
Steven had to cough to hide a chuckle. Geraldine shot him a sharp glare.
"Alright, Miss Mistake. The police have received photographs supposedly showing your missing daughter, Stacy Abrax. I know this must be painful, but we need to determine if these new pieces of evidence are legitimate." – Abrax spoke carefully.
"I understand, detective. You have to verify what's true and what's not. Honestly, I'm glad you came—it might finally put this chapter of my life to rest. The case's closure is something I've dreamed of for years." – Geraldine
"Oh? And may I ask why?" – Steven interjected.
"Are you a detective too, Mr. Maguire?" – Geraldine asked, raising an eyebrow.
"He's my colleague and assisting today. You can answer anything he asks—Mr. Steven Maguire is a competent officer." – Abrax intervened.
"I see. Well, as a mother, I spent years giving interviews, answering questions—I even wrote a book about Stacy's disappearance. At the time, I was practically crucified. They said I was trying to gain fame at my missing daughter's expense. That wasn't true, but the truth rarely matters to most people. So, when the case is closed, I thought I could finally move on." – Geraldine
"I heard that with the case's closure, a substantial sum will come into your hands. Wouldn't that also be a good reason?" – Steven
Geraldine stared at him and took a long sip of whiskey.
"Ah, money. Everyone talks about it. I'm not a gold digger, Mr. Maguire. That's just what people assume when they see a hot blonde marrying a mediocre-looking man. But listen well—Mr. Abrax was handsome, truly handsome. And Stacy was my daughter, even if adopted—I loved her." – Geraldine
She said it like a rehearsed speech, and Adam noticed.
"Well, I brought the photos we received, of course. In them, the supposed Stacy still looks young, which suggests that this is really a mistake or someone who looks like her."
Adam handed an envelope to Geraldine. She dumped its contents onto the table and went through the photos one by one.
Geraldine looked at all the pictures without real interest:
"It's not her, obviously. Someone is trying to mess with you cops."
From the moment he had entered the property, Abrax had felt watched, but besides Geraldine, there was only him and Steven there.
"You haven't been living here for long, have you?" Abrax asked.
"That's right. I needed to come before the case was archived, to put some things in order. Would you like a tour of the house? Come on, I think it would be good for you to have this in your records."
Adam and Steven followed the woman back to the entrance hall.
"This house was built in 1958. My first husband, Stacy's father, had it built exclusively for our family. A true luxury."
"Was the paint always like this?" Abrax asked.
"No, it used to be a very light pink. I had everything repainted after my husband died. When I met David, I moved out of here, but then we returned."
They went up the stairs, and with each step Adam took, he felt dizzier and more nauseous, though he didn't know why.
They entered a room full of antiques, and Geraldine smiled:
"This was where my first husband, Abrax, kept his collections. He was a very cultured man, well-traveled, and he liked to bring back pieces that reminded him of his explorations."
The room contained African statuettes, masks from unknown tribes, bows and arrows, and even a blowgun. But what impressed Adam and Steven the most was a Chinese sword at the center of the room, encased in protective glass.
"Everyone likes that one. Boys, this is a Muramasa. Apparently, the blacksmith who forged them had that name. They're considered cursed katanas, also known as demonic blades, said to have the power to turn people into killers. But honestly, that's just a legend. People are what they are."
"Is that what you believe?" Abrax asked.
"Absolutely, Detective Abrax," Geraldine replied, her voice slightly slurred. Adam noticed that the alcohol was starting to take effect, and perhaps that would help him get more information.
There were many rooms in the house, each more elegant than the last, but Abrax noticed that Geraldine avoided one particular place—the room that had belonged to Stacy.
When he pointed this out, their hostess couldn't refuse, and before he knew it, Adam was standing in a bedroom much larger than his apartment.
A beautiful princess-style bed, pink curtains, a massive vanity table made of fine wood painted gold.
There was a walk-in closet, a bathroom with a bathtub, and two large doors that opened into what seemed to be a playroom, filled with a wooden rocking horse, dolls, a medium-sized bowling set, a miniature golf course, and everything else a rich child could dream of.
Steven was having fun exploring all the extravagant things in the room—he had never seen anything so luxurious in his life.
"My first husband adored Stacy. She was the apple of his eye. He did all this for her."
"Forgive the question, but you were young—well, you were young back then, not that you aren't still—but why adopt? Why not have a child of your own?" Abrax asked.
Geraldine thought for a moment before answering:
"I'm not sure how we reached that decision. What I do remember is that I wanted a boy, and Abrax wanted a girl. We argued about it a lot. The orphanage even said they had a boy with the characteristics I was looking for, but in the end, we chose her."
"You don't seem happy about that," Abrax noted.
"I loved my husband, truly. Maybe I loved him more than I loved myself. So, if he was happy, that was all that mattered."
"Did you have a good relationship with Stacy?"
"Detective, what do you think? Stacy was young, had everything a girl could want—money and beauty. So, of course, we fought sometimes. Typical mother-daughter stuff."
"You put her in the spotlight very early, didn't you? Do you think that contributed to everything that happened?"
If anyone else had asked that, Geraldine would have thrown her glass in their face. But she found Abrax attractive, and a warmth spread through her chest as she spoke to him, so she let it slide.
"When Stacy's father, my first husband, died, I was desperate—left alone with a child I wasn't prepared to raise on my own. A photographer friend of mine thought Stacy was sensational, and what started as a hobby quickly became a career. It all happened so fast.
When my second husband, David, came into our lives, he provided the support Stacy needed to be the star she was—without losing her childhood."
Geraldine spoke automatically.
"David was a suspect in your daughter's case. The accusations against him—he allegedly molested her. What you're telling me now is very different from all the evidence in the case file," Abrax said.
Meanwhile, Steven continued enjoying the playroom while Geraldine and Adam talked. She asked Adam to follow her, and as they walked, he noticed how much of the house was filled with objects reminiscent of Eastern cultures.
"When Stacy arrived home, she was skinny, weak, and very quiet. Once, we played hide and seek, and I almost lost her—right here, inside this house. I nearly called the police, but I knew she was here! I could feel that she was here!
I found her two hours later, hidden inside one of the kitchen cabinets. It gave me chills because when I opened the door, she was smiling, with those eyes—you know? Like a beast, ready to pounce.
My first husband brought some items to this house from Japan and China. He used to say that Stacy was born in the Year of the Ox, though I always thought she was more of a Tiger. You know, horoscopes?
When I married David, I discovered he was also a big collector of Eastern artifacts. Maybe that's even part of why I was drawn to him—he reminded me of Abrax, my first husband.
People saw Stacy as reckless, rebellious, and overwhelming. But she wasn't like that. She was dedicated—she was never late for work or photoshoots, never woke up feeling sick, never complained about pain.
She was an excellent athlete—I can show you the medals she won in running, freestyle swimming, and canoeing. She also rode horses, did ballet, kung fu, karate, and other combat sports. And, against my wishes, she took circus classes—always hanging from those fabrics like a little monkey.
That dedication—she learned it from her father. I was proud of her."
Adam could tell the woman was telling the truth.