Chapter 5
I ran upstairs before anyone could stop me.
Smoke was already climbing the staircase.
“Lily!”
Her bedroom door opened.
She stood there clutching her stuffed rabbit.
“Mommy?”
“Come here!”
I grabbed her.
Dad shouted from below.
“Out the front!”
The smoke alarm screamed.
Nathan dragged Rachel toward the entryway.
I covered Lily’s face with my shirt and ran.
We made it onto the lawn as flames spread across the back side of the kitchen.
Neighbors poured outside.
Someone called the fire department.
Someone else recorded with a phone.
I didn’t care.
I held Lily against me so tightly that she complained she couldn’t breathe.
Dad wrapped both arms around us.
“You’re okay.”
I stared at the house.
“Our house is burning.”
“We’re okay.”
Fire trucks arrived.
Police arrived.
Then Ryan arrived.
He jumped from a black SUV before it fully stopped.
“Claire!”
I stepped backward.
He froze.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Lily?”
“She’s okay.”
He looked at the flames.
“What happened?”
“Someone threw something through the window.”
His face changed.
“You think I did this too?”
I couldn’t believe that was his first thought.
“This isn’t about you.”
His lawyer got out behind him.
Nathan walked over.
“You should not be here.”
Ryan snapped, “My family is standing in front of a burning house.”
“Your wife asked you to stay away.”
“She’s my wife.”
“Not for long,” I said.
Ryan stared at me.
The words had come out before I planned them.
But once they were in the air, I knew they were true.
His face went pale.
“Claire.”
“I’m filing for divorce.”
Lily looked up at me.
I regretted saying it in front of her.
But Ryan just stood there.
Then he nodded once.
As if some part of him had expected it.
“I understand.”
“No,” Diane’s voice said from behind him.
I turned.
She was walking toward us.
No handcuffs.
No police escort.
Free.
“What is she doing here?”
Ryan’s attorney sighed.
“She posted bail.”
Diane looked at the house.
Her expression was unreadable.
Then she looked at Rachel.
Everything changed.
Rachel stepped behind Nathan.
Diane whispered, “You.”
Ryan looked between them.
“You know her?”
Diane ignored him.
“You should have stayed gone.”
Rachel’s face hardened.
“That’s what you said after Thomas died.”
Detective Morgan immediately approached.
“Mrs. Harrington, do not speak to potential witnesses.”
Diane smiled.
“I came because my son told me there was a fire.”
Ryan stared at her.
“I didn’t call you.”
Silence.
Diane’s smile vanished.
“How did you know?” I asked.
She looked at the house.
“Police scanner.”
Dad laughed.
“At three in the afternoon?”
Diane turned toward him.
“Don’t test me.”
Detective Morgan stepped between them.
“I need everyone separated.”
The fire marshal later confirmed the obvious.
The fire had been deliberately started.
A glass bottle had been filled with gasoline.
A cloth wick.
A homemade firebomb.
Someone had thrown it through our kitchen window.
A neighbor’s doorbell camera captured a dark sedan speeding away.
The plate was hidden.
The driver’s face was not visible.
But the timing mattered.
The attack happened less than thirty minutes after Rachel arrived.
Someone knew she was there.
Rachel realized it too.
“I can’t stay here.”
Nathan shook his head.
“You’re going into protective custody.”
“No.”
“Rachel.”
“I don’t trust the police.”
Detective Morgan heard her.
“You trusted them enough to stand beside six officers.”
“I trusted Thomas too.”
Morgan didn’t take it personally.
“Fair.”
Rachel looked at me.
“I need to get the vault contents.”
“You’re not going alone.”
“I have to.”
“Why?”
“Because the box is registered under another name.”
Nathan frowned.
“What name?”
“Mine.”
The bank closed at five.
It was 3:40.
Detective Morgan arranged an escort.
I wanted to go.
Dad refused.
“You’re pregnant. Your house was just attacked. Stay with Lily.”
“I need to know what’s in that vault.”
“And you will.”
“Dad.”
“No.”
I stared at him.
He stared back.
Then Lily tugged my hand.
“Mommy, I’m scared.”
That ended the argument.
We went to Dad’s hotel.
He had booked a suite with two bedrooms.
Police stationed an officer outside.
Ryan asked if he could come.
I said no.
He didn’t fight me.
That frightened me more than an argument would have.
At 5:12 p.m., Nathan called.
“We got the box.”
“What’s inside?”
“A lot.”
“Tell me.”
“Claire, Lily is with you?”
“Yes.”
“Put me on headphones.”
I did.
Nathan lowered his voice.
“Thomas had been collecting evidence for nearly four years.”
“Against Diane?”
“Against Diane and several company executives.”
“For stealing?”
“Among other things.”
“What other things?”
He hesitated.
“Bribery.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
“A former board member. A zoning official. Two medical professionals.”
“Dr. Ward?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
“He gave her my information.”
“Apparently.”
“What exactly?”
“Your reproductive medical records.”
Rage made my hands shake.
“Why?”
“To track pregnancies and fetal sex.”
I looked at Lily coloring on the hotel carpet.
“Did he do this during my first pregnancy?”
“Yes.”
The answer hurt even though I expected it.
“Did Ryan know?”
“We haven’t found proof.”
“Keep looking.”
Nathan was quiet.
“What else?” I asked.
“The toxicology report.”
I held my breath.
“Thomas had dangerously high levels of digoxin in his blood.”
“What is that?”
“A heart medication. In excessive doses it can cause fatal arrhythmias.”
I sat down.
“Was Thomas prescribed it?”
“No.”
My skin went cold.
“Then somebody poisoned him.”
“We cannot say that yet.”
“He had a drug in his blood that wasn’t prescribed.”
“Yes.”
“Who had access to him?”
“Diane.”
“And?”
“Household staff.”
“Ryan?”
Nathan paused.
“He visited the evening before Thomas died.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“Why didn’t you say that before?”
“Because visiting your father is not evidence of murder.”
“What time?”
“He arrived at 8:15.”
“How do you know?”
“Security footage Thomas copied.”
“When did he leave?”
“10:02.”
“When did Thomas die?”
“Estimated between midnight and three.”
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
“Did Ryan know his father was investigating Diane?”
“I don’t know.”
“Find out.”
“We’re trying.”
My phone buzzed with another incoming call.
Ryan.
I almost ignored it.
Then I answered.
“What?”
“We need to talk.”
“No.”
“It’s about my father.”
My heart stopped.
“What about him?”
“I lied to the police.”
I stood.
“What did you lie about?”
“The night Dad died.”
I walked into the bedroom and closed the door.
“Tell me.”
“My mother called me around seven. She said Dad was acting paranoid.”
“Paranoid about what?”
“She said he accused her of stealing company money.”
“And you believed her.”
“Yes.”
“Of course.”
“Claire, listen.”
“I’m listening.”
“I went over there.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Thomas had security footage.”
Ryan swore softly.
“I went into his office.”
“What happened?”
“We fought.”
“About Diane?”
“Yes.”
“What did Thomas say?”
“That Mom was moving money and forging signatures.”
“And?”
“He said she had been monitoring your pregnancies.”
I couldn’t speak.
Ryan continued quickly.
“I thought he was confused.”
“Why?”
“Because it sounded insane.”
“Did you tell Diane?”
Silence.
“Ryan.”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
He had told her.
Thomas had trusted his son with the truth.
And Ryan had carried it straight back to the woman Thomas feared.
“What happened after you told her?”
“She started crying.”
“And?”
“She said Dad was trying to destroy the family.”
“What did you do?”
“I confronted him.”
“That night?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“He told me to leave.”
“Did you?”
“Eventually.”
“Did you touch his medication?”
“No.”
“Did you give him anything?”
“No.”
“Did your mother?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I arrived, she had made him tea.”
My skin prickled.
“Did he drink it?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was she there when you left?”
“Yes.”
There it was.
A timeline.
A possibility.
But Ryan sounded terrified.
“Why did you lie to the police?”
“Mom asked me to.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course she did.”
“She said investigators would blame me because we fought.”
“So you lied.”
“Yes.”
“To protect yourself?”
“To protect her.”
“You always protect her.”
“I know.”
His voice broke.
For the first time, he sounded ashamed rather than defensive.
“I know, Claire.”
I sat on the edge of the bed.
“Did you know about my doctor?”
“No.”
“Did you know Diane knew the baby was a girl before yesterday?”
Silence.
“What?”
My breathing stopped.
“Ryan.”
“I didn’t know how she knew.”
“Say that again.”
“She told me three days ago.”
The world seemed to disappear around me.
“Three days ago?”
“Yes.”
“But I didn’t find out until yesterday morning.”
“I know.”
“You knew before I did?”
“I knew what Mom told me.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t believe her at first.”
“What did she say?”
“That the baby was another girl.”
“What else?”
Ryan started crying.
I had almost never heard him cry.
“She said we had one more chance to fix the succession problem before people found out.”
I felt sick.
“Fix it.”
“I didn’t know she meant—”
“You saw the clinic brochure.”
“I know.”
“You locked the door.”
“I know.”
“You grabbed me.”
“I know.”
“And you still want me to believe you didn’t know what she meant?”
He was silent.
That was answer enough.
I ended the call.
Ten minutes later, Detective Morgan called.
He had spoken to Nathan.
They wanted Ryan’s statement formally changed.
They wanted Thomas’s death reopened.
And they wanted a warrant for Diane’s home.
At 9:40 p.m., police searched her house.
At 11:12, Morgan called again.
His voice was different.
Controlled.
Careful.
“We found something.”
“What?”
“A locked cabinet in Diane’s bedroom.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“What was inside?”
“Medical records.”
“Mine?”
“Yours. Lily’s. Thomas’s.”
I shut my eyes.
“And one prescription bottle.”
I knew before he said it.
“Digoxin?”
“Yes.”
“Was it Thomas’s?”
“The label was removed.”
I could barely breathe.
Morgan continued.
“There was something else in the cabinet.”
“What?”
“A folder with photographs.”
“Of who?”
“You.”
The hair rose on my arms.
“What kind of photographs?”
“Your home. Your car. Lily’s school.”
I looked toward the room where my daughter slept.
Morgan’s next words made my blood turn cold.
“Several pictures were taken this week.”
I whispered, “Diane was watching us.”
“Yes.”
“And Claire?”
“What?”
“We found a handwritten schedule.”
“What schedule?”
“Your daily routine.”
My fingers went numb.
Morgan paused.
“Tomorrow morning has one entry circled in red.”
“What does it say?”
He answered quietly.
May you like
“Prenatal appointment. 9:00 a.m.”
Then he added, “Underneath it, someone wrote: FINAL CHANCE.”
