Chapter 8 - THE HOUSE BY THE LAKE
I ran toward the house.
Three officers grabbed me.
“Ethan!”
Audrey screamed my name.
Flames climbed the eastern wall.
Richard appeared at the upstairs window for only a second before disappearing.
Natalie remained trapped behind the glass.
Firefighters moved.
A tactical team entered through the rear.
Audrey stood beside me, shaking.
“He wants me to watch.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“He wants me to watch someone else get hurt because of me.”
“This isn’t because of you.”
“I know.”
She said it immediately.
That mattered.
Months earlier, maybe even days earlier, she would have accepted Richard’s framing.
Not now.
“He wants me to believe it is.”
A window shattered.
Smoke poured out.
Then two firefighters emerged carrying Natalie.
Alive.
Audrey ran toward her.
Natalie coughed violently.
“Richard?”
Lena asked.
Natalie pointed toward the lake.
“He went through the tunnel.”
Of course there was a tunnel.
Police searched the shoreline.
Nothing.
Richard had prepared an escape route years ago.
Inside the burning house, investigators found what remained of the original hidden room.
Richard had returned to destroy evidence.
But he hadn’t destroyed all of it.
Fire-resistant cabinets survived.
Inside were old VHS tapes, photographs and journals.
One journal belonged to Margaret.
Audrey hesitated before reading it.
Then she opened to an entry dated two days after Daniel’s death.
Richard says everything will be okay if I trust him. I know I should go to police, but what if Daniel was right? What if Richard really did something? God forgive me, part of me is relieved Daniel can’t expose us now.
Audrey closed the journal.
“That’s enough.”
She handed it to Lena.
She did not need to consume every ugly detail to prove it existed.
Natalie recovered at the hospital.
Audrey visited her.
“I took his money,” Natalie said.
“You were seventeen.”
“I lied about you.”
“You were threatened.”
“I still did it.”
Audrey sat beside her.
“Then tell the truth now.”
Natalie cried.
“I will.”
That was all Audrey asked.
No instant forgiveness.
No absolution.
Truth first.
At 10:30 p.m., police found Richard’s escape boat abandoned five miles north.
Blood stained the deck.
Not much.
Enough to suggest injury.
A search began.
Hours passed.
No Richard.
Then my phone rang.
Private number.
I answered.
Richard.
“You ruined my life.”
“No.”
I looked at Audrey.
“You did that.”
He laughed.
“You really believe her?”
“Yes.”
“Even after Natalie?”
“Yes.”
“Margaret?”
“Yes.”
“All those people lied.”
“So did you.”
Silence.
I continued.
“The difference is they finally stopped.”
His voice hardened.
“You think you’re some kind of hero?”
“No.”
That answer seemed to irritate him.
“I’m her husband.”
“You won’t be for long.”
Audrey looked at me.
Lena signaled that the trace was active.
Richard continued.
“Ask Audrey what happened in the basement on her sixteenth birthday.”
Audrey went white.
I didn’t ask.
Richard laughed.
“She never told you everything.”
“She doesn’t owe me every memory.”
His silence told me I had hit something.
“You don’t understand marriage,” he said.
“Maybe not yours.”
“You think love means believing every story a woman tells you?”
“No.”
I looked at Audrey.
“It means she doesn’t have to earn basic safety from me.”
Richard hung up.
Audrey started crying.
Not because of him.
Because of what I had said.
I walked toward her.
“You okay?”
“I never told you about sixteen.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
“Then I’ll listen.”
And I did.
No interrogation.
No demand for detail.
No attempt to turn her pain into evidence unless she chose to.
When she finished, dawn was approaching.
Audrey looked exhausted.
But lighter.
“You still see me the same?”
“No.”
Her face fell.
I touched her cheek.
“I know you better.”
She closed her eyes.
“That’s different.”
“Yes.”
The investigation continued.
At 8:00 a.m., the Coast Guard found Richard’s jacket on a beach.
At 9:20, they found blood.
At 11:05, local police found footprints leading toward a highway.
Richard was alive.
At noon, another witness contacted investigators.
A former Vale Foundation driver.
He claimed he had transported Richard to a private airfield multiple times.
The airfield belonged to a corporation controlled by Thomas Bell.
Bell was brought back into questioning.
His face went pale.
“He has a plane.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Thomas.”
“He keeps it under another registration.”
Investigators searched.
One aircraft had filed a flight plan for Canada.
Departure: 4:00 p.m.
Police raced toward the airfield.
At 3:42, the hangar was surrounded.
At 3:48, officers entered.
The aircraft was there.
The pilot was there.
Richard wasn’t.
On one seat lay a phone.
A live video was playing.
Richard appeared.
Behind him was a familiar room.
Audrey stared.
“That’s our house.”
My blood went cold.
The house we had not returned to since our wedding.
Richard was standing inside our bedroom.
He held Audrey’s wedding photograph.
Then looked into the camera.
“You took my daughter.”
Audrey stepped toward the screen.
“No.”
Richard smiled.
“I’m taking something of yours.”
He turned the camera.
The image showed a woman tied to a chair.
For one second I didn’t recognize her.
Then my heart stopped.
May you like
My mother.
---
