Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN IN THE TRUNK
The blood was Lorraine’s.
DNA confirmation would take longer, but her medical records showed the same rare blood type. The amount found in Peter’s trunk suggested a significant injury, not necessarily death.
I felt two things at once.
Fear for my mother.
And anger at myself for feeling it.
Hannah saw the conflict.
“You’re allowed to care whether she’s alive.”
“After what she did?”
“She’s still your mother.”
“That has been her excuse for everything.”
“It does not have to become yours.”
Detective Bell traced Peter’s phone to an abandoned lakeside motel near the Massachusetts border.
Police found him alone in room seven.
He had blood on his clothes.
Lorraine was not there.
During questioning, Peter claimed she attacked him after learning he intended to surrender. He said he shoved her in self-defense. She struck her head against the trunk latch, then fled while he stopped for gas.
Bell did not believe him.
Neither did I.
Peter agreed to speak if I came to the station.
He looked ordinary.
That was the first thing that disturbed me.
He wore glasses, a blue shirt, and the exhausted expression of a small-town accountant. Nothing about him suggested he had helped dismantle my childhood and was now attempting to steal millions of dollars.
“You look like David,” he said.
“Do not speak about him.”
Peter lowered his eyes.
“Lorraine loves you.”
“No.”
“She does.”
“Love doesn’t forge power-of-attorney documents.”
“Fear does.”
“What was she afraid of?”
“Losing the only person who ever needed her.”
The answer unsettled me.
Peter explained that after my father’s accident, Lorraine became obsessed with the idea that David would recover and take me away. Peter helped her build the custody case.
“You knew the letters were forged.”
“Yes.”
“You knew she blocked his visitation.”
“Yes.”
“And you stayed.”
“I loved her.”
“That is not love.”
Peter almost smiled.
“You say that because you still believe love makes people better.”
I thought of Hannah protecting Sophie while injured.
“No. Love makes people responsible.”
Peter looked away.
He admitted creating the forged emails and power of attorney. He also admitted hiring an investigator to follow Hannah.
“Lorraine wanted Ethan to believe his wife was leaving,” Bell said.
Peter nodded.
“Once Hannah was gone, Lorraine expected to become Sophie’s temporary guardian. Then she could persuade Ethan to sign the trust transfer.”
“Persuade me how?” I asked.
Peter’s silence answered.
“By threatening Sophie.”
“No. She never planned to hurt the child.”
“She already did.”
Peter closed his eyes.
He finally revealed that Lorraine had gone to Victor Shaw.
“She believes Shaw will help her recover the documents.”
“Why would an extortionist help her?”
“Because the trust pays him.”
Bell leaned forward.
“Where would they meet?”
“Victor owns a hunting lodge near Stratton.”
Vermont police raided the property.
The lodge was empty.
Inside, they found my mother’s wine-red dress, torn and stained with blood.
They also found photographs of our house.
Sophie’s school.
Hannah’s car.
My Denver hotel.
Victor had been watching us before Lorraine’s luncheon.
On a desk was a typed demand.
Transfer the Hayes trust within forty-eight hours, or evidence will establish that Hannah Hayes kidnapped Sophie and assaulted Lorraine.
Attached were edited videos.
One showed Hannah dragging Sophie into a car.
The original footage had been recorded the day Sophie disappeared. The edited version removed Lorraine from the frame.
Another showed Hannah raising her hand toward Lorraine.
The recording stopped before revealing Lorraine seize her wrist and push it into the kettle.
My mother had installed cameras inside our house.
“Where?” I asked.
Police found six.
Kitchen.
Living room.
Upstairs corridor.
Sophie’s playroom.
Our bedroom.
Hannah became physically ill when she learned about the last one.
I wanted to destroy every device.
Bell stopped me.
“They are evidence.”
“They recorded my wife changing.”
“And possibly Lorraine entering the room.”
The bedroom camera had been hidden inside a smoke detector.
Its footage showed Lorraine searching Hannah’s drawers, photographing private medical documents, and removing prescription bottles.
One clip showed her crushing tablets into Hannah’s tea on March eighteenth.
There it was.
Proof that my mother drugged my wife, took Sophie out of the house, and later blamed Hannah for the disappearance.
The truth should have brought relief.
Instead, Hannah collapsed against me.
“She made me believe I failed Sophie.”
I held her.
“I should have been here.”
“You were working.”
“I left you alone with her.”
“You trusted your mother.”
“I trusted her more than I listened to you.”
Hannah looked up.
“Then listen now.”
“I am.”
“I don’t want you punishing yourself instead of helping us heal.”
The distinction mattered.
Guilt could become another way of centering myself.
“What do you need?”
“Locks changed. Cameras removed after police release them. Therapy for Sophie.”
“And you?”
“A lawyer. My own bank account. Copies of every financial document.”
The request hurt only because it showed how completely safety had been destroyed.
“Yes.”
“And I need you not to communicate with Lorraine without police recording it.”
“Yes.”
For the first time since I came home, Hannah breathed more easily.
That evening, David sat with Sophie while she drew pictures.
He did not force affection. He answered every question honestly, including why he had not been part of my life.
“I made mistakes,” he told her. “Then someone used those mistakes to keep me away.”
Sophie looked at him.
“Are you going away again?”
“Only if your parents ask me to.”
She considered.
“You can stay for pizza.”
David smiled.
“That sounds fair.”
My mother called during dinner.
Bell had installed recording software with a warrant.
“Ethan,” Lorraine whispered.
“Where are you?”
“Victor is keeping me here.”
“Are you hurt?”
“Yes.”
Despite everything, my chest tightened.
“He says if you sign the trust transfer, he’ll release me.”
“Let me speak to him.”
“I can’t.”
“Where are you?”
“I don’t know. Near water.”
A door slammed in the background.
Lorraine lowered her voice.
“I did terrible things.”
Hannah looked at me across the table.
“I thought if Hannah left, everything would return to how it was before.”
“Before what?”
“Before you stopped needing me.”
The admission sounded more honest than anything she had said.
“You hurt my family.”
“I know.”
“You hurt Sophie.”
Lorraine began crying.
“I didn’t mean for the water to burn her.”
“You ignored her when she said it hurt.”
“I was angry.”
“At a six-year-old?”
“At Hannah. At you. At everyone.”
“Tell me where Victor took you.”
“I saw a sign. Bellweather Marina.”
Detective Bell immediately sent the location to state police.
Lorraine’s breathing quickened.
“He’s coming.”
“Mom.”
“I’m sorry.”
The line went silent.
Police reached Bellweather Marina seventeen minutes later.
They found Lorraine tied inside an empty boathouse.
Alive.
Victor was gone.
My mother was taken to the hospital under guard.
She asked to see me.
I refused.
An hour later, Bell called.
“Victor left something at the marina.”
“What?”
“A photograph.”
It showed Sophie sleeping in her bedroom.
The timestamp was from ten minutes earlier.
I ran upstairs.
Her bed was empty.
May you like
The window stood open.
And on the pillow was one of the maple candies I had brought home.
