Chapter 20 - The Echo from the Deep
The flashing red and blue lights of half a dozen emergency vehicles painted the limestone facade of the Ashford estate in garish, rhythmic colors. Paramedics wrapped Claire in thermal blankets, gently loading her into the back of an ambulance while she held Lily against her breast, refusing to let the medical staff separate them for even a second.
Richard sat on the back bumper of a police cruiser, his head in his hands, answering the endless questions of state detectives. The maritime fortune, the corporate empire, the pristine reputation—everything he had spent thirty years building lay in ruins, exposed by the digital trail on Ethan's phone and the locked, windowless room in the western wing.
Nora stood near the edge of the lake driveway, her shoulder bandaged, holding a warm cup of coffee given to her by an officer. Ethan stood beside her, a white gauze pad taped over his forehead.
"Claire's lawyers are already filing the emergency guardianship papers," Ethan said quietly, watching the mist rise from the dark water of Lake Briar. "She's going to be okay, Nora. The doctors said the drugs Vivienne used didn't cause permanent damage. They're going to recover."
"And you?" Nora asked, looking at the boy who had risked everything to expose the rot within his own home.
Ethan looked toward the lake, where dive-and-rescue boats swept powerful halogen searchlights across the black, turbulent surface. "I think... for the first time in my life, I can breathe."
A loud, frantic shout from the shoreline shattered the quiet murmur of the crime scene.
"Commander! Over here! By the drainage culvert!"
Nora and Ethan hurried toward the rocky bank where three divers were hauling a heavy, dripping object from the water. Detective Vance, the lead investigator on the scene, jogged down the muddy slope, his flashlight cutting through the fog.
Nora expected to see the lifeless body of Vivienne Ashford pulled onto the gravel. But when the beam of light illuminated the shore, there was no body.
Only Vivienne's emerald velvet jacket, torn to shreds, caught on the jagged iron grating of the submerged drainage tunnel that connected Lake Briar to the municipal canal system three miles away.
Detective Vance knelt down, inspecting the grate. The heavy iron bars had been freshly bent outward from the inside. Pressed into the mud beside the water's edge were two clear, unmistakable impressions: the distinct, narrow footprints of high-end women's shoes, leading directly toward the dense, unmonitored woods bordering the highway.
In the pocket of the discarded velvet coat, a disposable burner phone suddenly vibrated against the wet stones.
May you like
The screen illuminated in the dark. A single text message flashed on the display:
*The car is waiting at Mile Marker 14. Richard thinks you're dead. The real game begins now.*
