A/N Here's the first chapter, per request. If you have any tips, question, or opinions don't hesitate to drop me a line in a PM or Review. Thanks for reading and please review!

Chapter 1

Clutching the steering wheel, I stared at the small apartment building in front of me. Located just on the outskirts of the town of Fells Church, it was just within walking distance of the High School, where I would be attending until my Senior year was up, and the elementary school where I would be sending my little brother, Henry. I took a deep breath into my lungs, fighting to stop the tears from coming. It's only temporary, Bonnie, I told myself. It's only until Aunt Jules is out of the hospital in a couple months. Then she'll be able to help.

These words were my only comfort, at least for now. Taking the keys out of the ignition, I leaned over to rouse ten year old Henry. "Hey, wake up, little guy. We're here."

Henry stirs, groaning slightly, then snuggles back into the seat. I sigh. Guess I'm going to have to resort to the unpleasant. "Henry, if you don't wake up, I'm not buying you Lucky Charms tomorrow."

Finally, he rouses, grumbling as he does so. "We're finally here?"

"Yes. Now get your things or you're sleeping in the car tonight," I glance at Henry just in time to see his expression as he takes in our new home. His brown eyes, so much like mine, widen in disbelief, and for the tiniest second his lips pucker like he's about to cry.

"Hey," I say, more gently this time, and rub his arm. "C'mon, sleepyhead, let's go inside."

"Okay," he sighs, then shrugs his backpack onto his small shoulders and opens the door. I take our suitcases from the backseat, deciding to bring the rest of our stuff inside when Henry's sleeping.

.

It's cold. Colder than usual. I wake with a start, throwing my bedspread back and sticking my feet in the soft luxury of my slippers. Looking around my room, I notice nothing out of place, but a horrible feeling deep inside tell me that something's wrong.

My thoughts immediately flash to my parents. They were flying home from Bermuda tonight on the red eye. What if something happened to them?

I throw on my robe, opting for the plush one rather than the silk- it's much warmer. As I step into the hall, the eerie quiet of the night welcomes me. I slip past the maids' quarters, not wanting to wake Josephine or Helga. When I reach the grand stairs I breathe a sigh of relief; I made it. But when I step into the great hall, hushed voice stop me.

Tilting my head to the side, I listen more intently. The voices are coming from the dining room. It sounds like Alaric Saltzman, my father's associate, and Hugh Parks, my uncle who lives in Europe. What was he doing here? What was Alaric doing here, so late at night? It was highly inappropriate. For one disturbed moment, I wonder if they're having a secret gay love affair.

Their voices are so muted by the double doors, I can hardly hear anything. Suddenly, I hear footsteps behind me. Thinking lightening fast, I duck into the closet under the stairs. The shoes click-clack against the floor, it sounds like a woman in heels.

The double doors open audibly and the woman enters the great room, not bothering to close the doors behind her.

"Gentlemen," I'm surprised to hear my aunt Jules' rich, high-handed voice. "Thank you for honoring me with your presence on such a fine evening. Shall we move to William's study?"

Three sets of feet exit the dining room and carrying on down the hall. They are all silent as they enter my father's study, closing the door tightly behind them. I slip out from the closet silently and scurry towards the study. Something, my unstoppable curiosity probably, carries me forward and urges me to press my ear against the door.

I hear a telltale sound of shuffling, then complete silence. I imagine my aunt regarding her visitors intently, with that black ice look she sometimes gets in her hazel eyes. I imagine my portly uncle dabbing his red face with a handkerchief, looking uncomfortable and weary. I didn't know what Alaric Saltzman would be doing as my aunt looked upon him; I had only met Mr. Saltzman a couple times, but those were so few I could hardly remember. I imagined the handsome young man would be looking my aunt straight in the eye, not giving into her withering stare.

"Gentlemen, I'm afraid I have some terrible news." My aunt finally spoke. "There's been an accident."

Her words send shivers down my spine, and I clamp my hand over my mouth to quiet my gasp. Oh no. This is what I had feared. This is what woke me in the middle of the night. I knew something horrible had happened I just knew it!

"The McCullough's plane went down just as they were nearing New York City. The aircraft was plunged deep into the sea. We've heard nothing since. The coastguard is searching the waters, but they've found no survivors." Her voice falters and she takes a deep breath before whispering, "It's safe to say that William and Margaret McCullough are dead."

I listen to all this in complete silence, ignoring the hot tears that pool in my eyes. Dead? They can't be dead! They just can't be. Not my parents. They wouldn't leave us. Not like this.

Uncle Hugh lets out a loud moan, "Oh, Lord. What are we to tell the children?"

I knew he was talking about Henry and me, even though I was 16- hardly a child. Clutching my mouth tighter, broken sobs fight their way up my throat. I must not cry. I must not cry. I repeat over, and over in my head, like a silent prayer.

"Let's not worry about such things now," Alaric Saltzman mutters. "William would have wanted us to continue in the research. This is clearly what we should be focusing on."

"Absolutely not," Aunt Jules' voice whispers cuttingly. "I will not stand for this talk after such a tragedy has occurred."

"Surely you must know that Margaret would have wanted this also, Jules. They dedicated their lives to researching our cause, we mustn't let them down. It would be wasteful."

"I've said no, Mr. Saltzman! This would only endanger us further."

"From what, exactly? From finding the truth? We can't give up!" His voice rings loudly, I can almost hear his teeth clenching around the words.

"You've gone mad!" Aunt Jules shrieks.

Uncle Hugh sobs. "Would you listen to yourselves? Our dear friends have died and we're discussing business. Absurd, how absurd."

For one second, Aunt Jules and Alaric are silent. Other than Uncle Hugh's sobs and Alaric's hard breathing, all is quiet in the McCullough Manor. Then Alaric speaks in a slightly more contained voice, although the calm can't mask his rage underneath. "We can't give up," he repeats. "Say William and Margaret hadn't just died; say it wasn't a plane malfunction. What if they were murdered?"

I count four quickened heartbeats before Aunt Jules replies to Alaric's accusation.

"I wouldn't hear of it."

"But Jules-"

"I need a minute!" She snaps. Listening intently, I hear the sounds of high-heels pacing about the study. Then Aunt Jules let out a long breath. "Let's pick this up tomorrow, shall we? It's late, none of us are thinking clearly and I'm sure we all need a breather to assess our feelings towards this … mishap. Thank you for coming, gentlemen. I'll see you out."

I quickly stumble backwards, hiding around the corner into the kitchen. I'm numb. The whisper of fabric being pulled over arms and heels stomping down the hall fade as I'm pulled into oblivion.