Chapter 14 - The Chase Through the Mist
“Richard!” Margaret shouted, but he was already gone.
Outside, the roar of a high-performance engine shattered the quiet neighborhood. Tires shrieked against the wet pavement as Richard’s black sedan backed out of the driveway, clipping Margaret’s wooden mailbox and sending splinters flying across the lawn before tearing away down Maple Drive.
Daniel was still on the floor, his arms wrapped around Lily, rocking her back and forth, repeating the same words over and over: *“I’m sorry, baby. Daddy’s so sorry. Daddy’s here. I’m so sorry.”*
Margaret didn't hesitate. She grabbed the house phone, dialed Detective Bennett’s direct cell number, and brought the receiver to her ear.
Bennett answered on the second ring. “Bennett.”
“He was here,” Margaret said, her voice shaking but completely clear. “Richard Vance. Daniel’s brother. He supplied the sedatives. He’s the primary beneficiary on the fraudulent conservatorship rider. He just fled my house heading south on Route 9 toward the interstate.”
There was a half-second pause on the other end, followed by the shrill scream of Bennett’s siren firing up in the background.
“State police have already set a perimeter on the turnpike ramps,” Bennett barked. “We impounded Vanessa’s phone an hour ago, Mrs. Vance. We found the encrypted text logs between her and Richard dating back nine months. He’s not getting out of this county.”
Margaret hung up the phone.
She walked back into the living room. Clara, who had run in from next door when she heard the commotion, was kneeling beside Daniel, gently helping him up from the floor. Noah was awake now, babbling softly from the upstairs monitor.
“Take the kids into the master bedroom, Clara,” Margaret said gently. “Lock the interior door. Keep them warm.”
“Margaret, where are you going?” Daniel asked, leaning heavily against the sofa, his eyes desperate.
“Nowhere,” Margaret said, her face set like stone. “I’m going to sit right here on this front porch until the sun comes up. And I’m going to make sure the world sees every single piece of what they tried to do to this family.”
She walked into the foyer, picked up the thumb drive from the inside pocket of her cardigan—where it had been the entire time—and plugged it into her laptop sitting on the hall table.
Bennett had said Richard’s encrypted text logs were on Vanessa’s phone. But Daniel’s digital video recorder hadn't just recorded the kitchen.
There were four camera feeds on the hard drive.
Camera one: Kitchen.
Camera two: Living room.
Camera three: Hallway.
Camera four: Basement utility room.
Margaret opened the folder for Camera Four.
She had assumed Daniel put the fourth camera near the furnace to monitor the DVR box itself. But as the video loaded, she realized the camera wasn't pointed at the furnace.
It was pointed at Daniel’s locked metal filing cabinet in the corner of the cellar.
The timestamp was from six days ago. Sunday afternoon, 2:14 PM.
On the screen, the basement door opened. Someone walked down the wooden steps.
It wasn't Vanessa.
It wasn't Richard.
Margaret leaned closer to the screen, her breath stopping completely in her throat.
The figure walking toward the filing cabinet was wearing a gray wool trench coat. The person pulled a ring of brass keys from their pocket, unlocked the bottom drawer of the cabinet, pulled out Sarah’s original, signed last will and testament, and slid it into a leather portfolio.
Then the figure turned toward the basement stairs, catching the harsh fluorescent light overhead.
Margaret’s hand flew to her throat. A silent scream died in her chest.
The person on the screen was not an in-law. It was not a corrupt consultant.
It was Sarah’s mother.
May you like
Evelyn.
Lily’s other grandmother. The woman who had wept at Sarah’s funeral, the woman who had moved to Florida two years ago, claiming she couldn't bear to stay in the town where her daughter died.
