Chapter 6 - THE CABIN WHERE ELIZABETH WAITED
Arthur Vale survived.
Barely.
The bullet passed through his upper chest without striking his heart, but the blood loss was severe enough that Dominic’s private physician ordered immediate surgery.
Claire watched the ambulance disappear behind the cemetery gates.
Then she looked at Dominic.
There was blood on his white shirt.
His father’s blood.
He stood completely still.
“Dominic.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
His eyes met hers.
“I don’t have time not to be.”
It was a terrible sentence.
Because Claire understood it.
She had spent most of her adult life saying the same thing in different words.
No time to be tired.
No money to be sick.
No room to fall apart.
She touched his wrist.
Just once.
“Then we keep moving.”
He looked down at her hand.
Something softened.
“Together?”
Claire nodded.
“Together.”
The photograph became their only immediate lead.
Marcus identified the lake within two hours.
Lake Harmony.
Ninety miles north.
Daniel recognized the cabin after seeing an enlarged image.
“Elizabeth rented it under another name when Claire was little.”
Claire stared at him.
“You knew?”
“Not that she survived. I knew she had used the place before.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Daniel’s eyes filled.
“Because every answer I give you now sounds like another lie.”
Claire couldn’t argue with that.
By noon, Dominic, Claire and Marcus were driving north.
Victoria remained under guard.
Malcolm had disappeared during the confusion at the cemetery.
Dominic’s men were searching.
Claire sat beside Dominic in the rear of the SUV.
For twenty minutes, neither spoke.
Then Dominic said, “You should hate us.”
Claire looked through the window.
“I don’t know who ‘us’ is anymore.”
“My family.”
“Your family doesn’t seem to know who your family is either.”
That earned the smallest breath of amusement.
Then she looked at him.
“Did you know Victoria treated me that way?”
His expression tightened.
“I knew she could be cruel.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“No.”
“Would it have mattered?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He turned toward her.
“Because nobody working in my home should be treated like they’re less human than the people attending a party.”
Claire studied him.
“That answer sounded prepared.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Good.”
He frowned.
“Why?”
“Because if you’d said you would have stopped her because you cared about me specifically, I wouldn’t believe you.”
He looked toward the road.
“I did care specifically.”
Claire stopped breathing for half a second.
Dominic continued before she could respond.
“I just had no right to.”
“You were engaged.”
“Yes.”
“To a woman trying to steal from you.”
“I didn’t know that part.”
“You did know she was cruel.”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“That should have been enough.”
He accepted the hit.
“You’re right.”
No excuse.
No defense.
Claire had not expected that either.
The cabin sat beyond a narrow gravel road surrounded by red and gold October trees.
Abandoned.
At least from outside.
Marcus entered first.
“All clear.”
Claire stepped inside.
Dust covered the furniture.
But only lightly.
Dominic noticed.
“Someone has been here recently.”
A coffee mug sat upside down beside the sink.
A wool blanket had been folded on the couch.
Claire walked toward the fireplace.
Framed photographs stood along the mantel.
Most were landscapes.
One made her stop.
A photograph of Emma.
Her daughter.
Taken last spring outside school.
Claire’s stomach dropped.
“Dominic.”
He came immediately.
Marcus saw it.
“Someone has been watching your family.”
Claire picked up another photograph.
Emma at a playground.
Daniel loading groceries.
Claire leaving Dominic’s estate.
Her hands shook.
“What kind of person does this?”
A floorboard creaked upstairs.
Marcus drew his weapon.
Dominic moved Claire behind him.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“If my mother is upstairs—”
Another creak.
Then a woman’s voice.
“Please don’t shoot.”
Claire froze.
Footsteps descended.
Slow.
Careful.
A woman appeared on the staircase.
Early sixties.
Dark hair streaked heavily with gray.
Thin.
A scar near her right temple.
Claire knew the eyes.
Because she saw them every morning in the mirror.
The woman stopped.
Claire couldn’t speak.
Neither could she.
Then the woman whispered:
“Claire.”
Claire’s knees weakened.
“No.”
The woman gripped the stair rail.
“My baby.”
Claire backed away.
“You don’t get to call me that.”
Tears filled the woman’s eyes.
“I know.”
“Are you Elizabeth?”
“Yes.”
Claire slapped her.
Harder than she had slapped Arthur.
Elizabeth accepted it.
Claire hit her again.
Then collapsed against her.
The sound that came from her was not quite crying.
It was twenty-eight years of confusion and sixteen years of mourning breaking open at once.
Elizabeth held her.
“I’m sorry.”
Claire pushed away.
“You were alive.”
“Yes.”
“For sixteen years after they told me you died?”
“Yes.”
“You watched my daughter?”
Elizabeth looked toward the photographs.
“I had to know you were safe.”
“You could have called!”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Twice.”
Claire stared.
Elizabeth looked at Dominic.
“The first time, Raymond Cole answered Daniel’s home phone.”
Daniel had never mentioned that.
Claire’s face changed.
“Raymond?”
“He told me if I contacted Claire again, he would kill her.”
Dominic’s voice sharpened.
“When was this?”
“Seventeen years ago.”
“The second time?”
“Six years ago.”
“What happened?”
Elizabeth’s face changed.
“Thomas Hale found me.”
Marcus stepped closer.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“You saw him before he died?”
“Two days before.”
Marcus swallowed.
“What did he say?”
“That Raymond knew where I was. Thomas told me to run.”
“Then my father died in a robbery.”
Elizabeth shook her head.
“No.”
Marcus’s eyes went empty.
“He was murdered.”
“Yes.”
“By Raymond?”
“I believe so.”
Marcus walked outside without a word.
Dominic let him go.
Claire sat at the small kitchen table.
“Why now?”
Elizabeth answered.
“Because Arthur found me three months ago.”
Claire stared.
“He knew you were alive?”
“Only recently.”
“He didn’t say.”
“I asked him not to.”
Claire laughed bitterly.
“Apparently that’s a family tradition.”
Elizabeth flinched.
Good, Claire thought.
Then hated herself for thinking it.
Dominic asked, “Why did Arthur return?”
“Because someone started moving large amounts from Claire’s trust again. It meant Malcolm’s old network had become active.”
“Raymond.”
“Yes.”
Elizabeth opened a cabinet and removed a thick binder.
“Raymond didn’t steal the original money. Malcolm did. Catherine investigated him. After I survived the crash, Catherine helped hide me.”
Dominic stared.
“My mother protected you?”
“At enormous risk.”
“Why?”
Elizabeth looked at him.
“Because she blamed herself for putting me in danger.”
Dominic sat.
Something inside him visibly loosened.
His mother had made terrible choices.
But she had not abandoned Elizabeth.
Elizabeth continued.
“Catherine discovered Raymond was protecting Malcolm in exchange for a percentage. She collected evidence.”
“Where?”
“In this cabin.”
Claire looked around.
“Then why hasn’t Raymond destroyed it?”
“He tried.”
Elizabeth lifted the binder.
“This is a copy.”
“Where is the original?”
Elizabeth looked at Claire.
“With the only person Raymond believes is dead.”
Dominic frowned.
“Who?”
Before Elizabeth could answer, headlights appeared outside.
Three vehicles.
Marcus burst through the door.
“We’ve got company.”
Dominic looked through the curtain.
Men exited the vehicles.
Claire recognized one.
Deputy Commissioner Raymond Cole.
He wore no uniform.
No police escort.
Just a dark coat and a pistol.
Elizabeth whispered, “He found me.”
Dominic reached inside his jacket.
Claire grabbed his arm.
“There are six men.”
“Seven.”
Marcus checked the back window.
“Maybe eight.”
Raymond’s voice carried from outside.
“Dominic Vale!”
Dominic remained silent.
Raymond called again.
“I know Elizabeth is inside.”
Claire looked at her mother.
Elizabeth was terrified.
Raymond continued:
“You have five minutes to give me the ledger.”
Dominic opened a drawer and found an old revolver.
Then Raymond shouted something else.
“And Claire?”
She froze.
“I brought someone you’ll want to see.”
A rear car door opened.
A small figure was pulled onto the gravel.
Claire stopped breathing.
May you like
Emma.
Her nine-year-old daughter.
