Chapter 8
I couldn’t understand what I was seeing.
Vanessa.
The woman who had exposed Ethan.
The woman who gave police his messages.
The woman who said she was afraid of him.
She was helping him.
“Get in!” she shouted.
Detective Morgan aimed her weapon.
“Step away from the vehicle!”
Vanessa froze.
Ethan still had one arm around Lily.
My daughter was screaming.
“Mommy!”
I got to my feet.
“Let her go.”
Ethan backed toward the SUV.
“Tell her to lower the gun.”
Morgan didn’t move.
“Release the child.”
“I’m her father.”
“You are a wanted suspect.”
“She belongs with me.”
My stomach turned.
“She doesn’t belong to anyone!”
His eyes snapped toward me.
“This is your fault.”
I almost laughed.
Even now.
Even holding our terrified daughter.
Nothing was ever Ethan’s fault.
Vanessa suddenly yelled, “Ethan, police behind us!”
He turned his head.
That was enough.
Lily bit his arm.
Hard.
Ethan shouted and loosened his grip.
I lunged.
I grabbed Lily and pulled her toward me.
Detective Morgan moved between us.
“DOWN!”
I dropped to the pavement with Lily beneath me.
Ethan ran.
Vanessa jumped into the SUV.
The engine roared.
Ethan grabbed the passenger door as she accelerated.
For one strange second, it looked like she might leave without him.
Then she stopped.
He climbed in.
They sped away.
Police vehicles followed within seconds.
I stayed on the ground holding Lily.
She shook so violently I could feel it through her coat.
“Mommy.”
“I’m here.”
“Daddy scared me.”
“I know.”
“Why did Aunt Vanessa help him?”
Aunt Vanessa.
Lily had apparently heard adults call her that during the chaos.
I looked toward the road.
“I don’t know.”
Detective Morgan returned less than a minute later.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Lily?”
“I’m okay,” Lily whispered.
Morgan crouched.
“You were very brave.”
Lily buried her face against me.
I looked at Morgan.
“What is Vanessa doing?”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“You trusted her.”
“I trusted evidence.”
“She led him here.”
Morgan’s jaw tightened.
“Maybe.”
The hotel fire turned out to be small.
A trash container inside a service hallway had been deliberately ignited.
Someone had created panic to draw everyone outside.
Ethan had known exactly which hotel.
That meant someone leaked the location.
Vanessa was the obvious answer.
But there was a problem.
Police had not told her where we were.
Only a handful of officers knew.
So how had she found us?
The pursuit ended fifteen minutes later.
The SUV was abandoned near an industrial park.
No Ethan.
No Vanessa.
A second vehicle had been waiting.
The entire thing had been planned.
Lily was examined by paramedics.
Physically, she was fine.
Emotionally, she was terrified.
My mother cried harder than Lily did.
I didn’t cry.
I had moved beyond tears.
I wanted Ethan caught.
And I wanted the truth about Vanessa.
Detective Morgan stayed with us until nearly dawn.
At four twenty, her phone rang.
She listened.
Then looked at me.
“We found Vanessa.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Emergency room.”
“What happened?”
“She walked into a gas station about forty miles away and asked them to call police.”
I stared at her.
“Is she hurt?”
“Bruised. Nothing severe.”
“Where’s Ethan?”
“She says she doesn’t know.”
Of course.
I drove to the hospital with Morgan.
I refused to wait.
Vanessa lay in bed with a bandage near her temple.
When she saw me, she started crying.
I didn’t care.
“You smiled at me.”
She swallowed.
“What?”
“When you drove away.”
“Emily—”
“You smiled.”
“I was trying to make Ethan believe I was with him.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“He contacted me yesterday.”
Morgan stepped closer.
“You told us he hadn’t.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
Vanessa looked at her hands.
“He said he would kill Lily if I told police.”
Rage exploded through me.
“So instead you helped him take her?”
“No!”
“You drove the car!”
“Because he told me he already had someone inside the hotel.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“He said if I didn’t cooperate, that person would start a fire in the occupied rooms instead of the service hallway.”
Morgan’s expression sharpened.
“Who?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
“You should have called us.”
“I was scared!”
“So was my eight-year-old daughter!”
“I know!”
Vanessa sobbed.
“I know.”
I turned away.
I couldn’t look at her.
Morgan continued questioning.
“How did you know the hotel?”
“Ethan texted the address.”
“From what number?”
“Burner.”
“Where is the phone?”
Vanessa pointed at her purse.
Police collected it.
“Where did he go after abandoning the SUV?”
“He forced me into another car.”
“What car?”
“White pickup.”
“Driver?”
“No driver. It was parked.”
“Where did you separate?”
“Near Route 14.”
“What happened?”
“He started getting angry because I asked him to surrender.”
She touched the bruise near her temple.
“He hit me.”
I looked back despite myself.
“He told me everything was ruined.”
“What did he want?” Morgan asked.
“Documents.”
“What documents?”
“Something Emily’s father had.”
My pulse jumped.
“The journals?”
“I think so.”
“He already stole them.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“He said one thing was missing.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
“He didn’t say?”
“He kept repeating, ‘Where is the original?’”
Original.
I thought of insurance paperwork.
Property deeds.
Katherine’s letter.
Then I remembered my father.
He had been obsessive about records.
If he discovered something about Ethan, he wouldn’t keep only a note.
He would keep proof.
I called my mother.
“Did Dad have a safe deposit box?”
She went quiet.
“Yes.”
My heart pounded.
“Where?”
“First Community Bank.”
“Did he leave it to you?”
“I don’t know.”
“He did,” she said.
I closed my eyes.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought you knew.”
Of course.
Another piece of my life buried under grief and assumptions.
The bank opened at nine.
Detective Morgan obtained legal authorization to accompany me.
The manager confirmed my father had maintained a safe deposit box.
After his death, ownership transferred to me under the estate documents.
I had never accessed it.
The manager led us downstairs.
The box was long and narrow.
My hands trembled as I opened it.
Inside were several envelopes.
A flash drive.
An old photograph.
And a sealed letter.
The front said:
EMILY — READ THIS ALONE FIRST.
I couldn’t.
I opened it with Detective Morgan beside me.
Em,
If you are reading this, I may not have gotten the chance to speak to you.
I hope I am wrong.
I hope I have wasted weeks worrying about something that has an innocent explanation.
But I have learned that Ethan was married before.
His wife, Katherine, died in a crash.
I spoke with a retired insurance investigator who worked on her claim.
He always believed something was wrong.
Your husband received the policy payment quickly.
More important, the investigator kept a copy of a recorded call made by Katherine three days before she died.
It is on the drive.
My vision blurred.
I looked at the flash drive.
Dad continued.
There is something else.
Ethan has been asking questions about the land I intend to leave you.
He asked whether you would inherit directly and whether spouses have rights to the proceeds.
I did not like the questions.
I hired someone to review his financial history.
What we found is on the drive.
If I am wrong, forgive an old man for being suspicious.
If I am right, protect yourself and protect Lily.
Love,
Dad
I was crying before I finished.
Detective Morgan looked away, giving me a moment.
Then we took the flash drive to the station.
The recording was old and poor quality.
But Katherine’s voice was clear enough.
She was crying.
“I need to know if Ethan can change the policy without me.”
A male investigator answered.
“No.”
“He keeps asking me to sign forms.”
“Don’t sign anything you don’t understand.”
“I’m scared.”
“What are you scared of?”
A pause.
Then Katherine whispered, “He said if I leave him, I’ll leave with nothing.”
The investigator told her to contact an attorney.
Then she said the sentence that silenced everyone listening.
“His mother keeps telling me to stop making him angry.”
Diane.
Again.
The recording continued.
Katherine said Ethan had recently taken her car to a friend’s garage.
She didn’t trust the repairs.
Three days later, she died.
Detective Morgan immediately contacted prosecutors.
The reopened case was no longer just an old suspicion.
Then we opened the financial files.
My father’s investigator had traced Blue Harbor.
Diane controlled it.
Money from Katherine’s insurance payment had flowed through accounts connected to the company years earlier.
More recently, Ethan had used Blue Harbor to hide debt and move money.
Then I saw a name.
Steve.
Payments going back thirteen years.
Not twenty-five thousand.
Much more.
Steve had lied.
He had claimed he wasn’t involved in Katherine’s car.
But Blue Harbor paid him two weeks before Katherine died.
Detective Morgan stood.
“Get Steve back in an interview room.”
Steve broke within forty minutes.
Rick Palmer had not touched Katherine’s car.
Steve had.
He had been nineteen.
Ethan paid him to create what Steve thought would be a minor mechanical problem.
He claimed he never believed she would die.
Nobody believed that made him innocent.
Then Steve gave them what they needed most.
“Ethan will go to the cabin.”
Morgan stared at him.
“We already searched it.”
“Not Diane’s cabin.”
“What are you talking about?”
Steve looked at me.
“There’s another one.”
Diane had inherited property from Charles Bennett.
A small hunting cabin more than three hours north.
It wasn’t listed under her current name.
Blue Harbor owned it.
Police mobilized.
I was told to stay behind.
For once, I didn’t argue.
Lily needed me more than I needed to watch an arrest.
Hours passed.
Then Detective Morgan called.
“We found him.”
My knees weakened.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Did he surrender?”
A pause.
“No.”
“What happened?”
“He ran into the woods.”
“Did you catch him?”
“Not yet.”
Night was falling.
Temperatures were dropping.
Dozens of officers searched.
I sat beside Lily’s bed holding her hand.
At 11:48 p.m., my phone rang again.
Unknown number.
I knew.
I answered.
Ethan whispered, “You should have let it go.”
I closed my eyes.
Police were already tracing the call.
“You tried to take our daughter.”
“She’s my daughter too.”
“You terrified her.”
“You turned her against me.”
“She watched you grab her.”
“You don’t understand what I’ve lost.”
There it was.
Not what he had done.
What he had lost.
“Where are you?”
He laughed softly.
“Do you remember our honeymoon?”
I frowned.
“What?”
“You said you’d follow me anywhere.”
“That was before I knew who you were.”
His breathing changed.
“You knew me.”
“No.”
“Yes, you did.”
“I knew the man you pretended to be.”
Silence.
Then he said, “Your father should have minded his own business.”
My heart stopped.
“What did you do to my father?”
Another silence.
“Ethan.”
“You always loved him more than me.”
“What did you do?”
He whispered, “Goodbye, Emily.”
The call ended.
Police lost the signal.
But his words were recorded.
And now I knew one more thing.
May you like
My father’s death had not been forgotten.
It had just become another question.
