Chapter 5 - I spent the next three hours searching my house for a locked compartment.I found nothing.
No safe.
No hidden door.
No loose bricks.
No secret drawer.
By dawn, I was exhausted.
Then I remembered something.
The wall behind the portrait.
Thomas had always refused to let anyone move it.
The portrait showed the two of us on our fifteenth anniversary.
It hung in the hallway outside the old office.
I removed it.
Behind it was nothing but drywall.
I ran my fingers across the surface.
Then stopped.
A tiny seam.
Almost invisible.
I pressed.
The panel shifted.
My heart raced.
I found a small keyhole.
The key from the chair fit perfectly.
The panel opened.
Inside was a metal box.
I pulled it out.
There were documents.
Photographs.
A flash drive.
And a second letter from Thomas.
This one was shorter.
Evelyn,
If you're opening this, Harrison has already crossed the line I feared he would.
Do not trust anything he tells you about the house.
Do not sign anything.
And most importantly, do not let him convince you that I died without knowing what he was doing.
My knees weakened.
I sat down on the floor.
Thomas knew.
He knew.
I opened the folder.
The first photograph showed Harrison outside a courthouse.
The second showed Sloan entering the same building.
The third showed another man.
I recognized him immediately.
Daniel Price.
The man Margaret said was dead.
But the photograph was dated two weeks after his supposed death.
I stared at it.
Impossible.
I called Margaret.
She answered immediately.
“Mrs. Bennett?”
“I found a photograph.”
I described it.
Silence.
Then Margaret whispered:
“Where did you get it?”
“In my house.”
“Send me a copy.”
I did.
Thirty seconds later, my phone rang.
“That photograph proves Daniel Price was alive after the accident.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means his death may have been staged.”
My stomach twisted.
“Why would someone fake a death?”
“Protection.”
“From whom?”
Margaret didn't answer.
A noise came from upstairs.
Footsteps.
I lowered my voice.
“They're awake.”
“Leave the house.”
I grabbed the metal box.
Then the floor creaked.
Harrison appeared at the doorway.
He stared at the open wall.
Then at me.
Then at the box in my hands.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Finally he said:
“Mom.”
I had never seen him look like that.
Not angry.
Not embarrassed.
Terrified.
“What is in the box?” he asked.
“That's what I'm trying to find out.”
He took a step forward.
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
“Mom.”
“No.”
His expression hardened.
“You don't understand what those documents mean.”
“Then explain them.”
He didn't.
Instead, he said:
“Thomas wasn't the man you thought he was.”
The sentence hit me.
“What?”
“He lied to you.”
“You're lying to me.”
“I found things after he died.”
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
“Because you couldn't handle it.”
“Don't tell me what I can handle.”
His face tightened.
Then Sloan appeared behind him.
She looked at the box.
She looked at Harrison.
Then she whispered:
“Did she find it?”
The fact that she asked confirmed everything.
I stepped backward.
“Were you two working together?”
Neither answered.
My voice broke.
“How long?”
Harrison looked at Sloan.
Sloan looked at him.
Then he finally said:
“Before you ever met her.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“I met Sloan because of the investigation.”
“Investigation into what?”
“My father.”
I stared at him.
Thomas.
“My father wasn't innocent,” Harrison said.
I shook my head.
“You're lying.”
“No.”
“You're saying your father stole money?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Harrison looked directly at me.
“He was laundering it.”
The room went silent.
I felt my body go cold.
“That isn't true.”
Harrison stepped closer.
“We found evidence.”
“What evidence?”
He pointed at the metal box.
“That's the evidence.”
I looked down.
“Then why did Thomas leave it for me?”
Harrison's expression changed.
For the first time, he looked genuinely broken.
“Because he knew I would come looking for it.”
I stared at my son.
“Did he trust you?”
“No.”
A tear moved down his cheek.
“No, Mom.”
He whispered:
“He was afraid of me.”
Then Sloan reached behind her back.
She held a small gun.
I froze.
“Put it down,” I whispered.
She shook her head.
“I'm not here to hurt you.”
“Then why are you holding a gun?”
She looked at Harrison.
“We don't have time.”
A sound came from the front door.
Someone was entering the house.
Sloan's face went white.
“That isn't security.”
Harrison grabbed my arm.
“Move.”
“Where?”
He pointed toward the hidden compartment.
“Back inside.”
“What?”
“Now.”
May you like
Before I could move, the front window shattered.
A bullet slammed into the wall above my head.
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