Chapter 9 - The Last Flight OutRichard's flight was scheduled to leave at 9:20 a.m.
At 7:15, Detective Quinn was already on her way to the airport with a warrant application and a team from the financial crimes unit.
I spent the morning in an interview room, giving a formal statement about the documents found at Birch Hollow and Account 317. Celeste sat in a separate room, accompanied by her attorney. Her testimony could expose her to questions about the transfers, but she had agreed to cooperate.
At 8:03, Quinn entered with a thick folder.
“We have confirmation that Richard purchased the ticket last night. He also transferred money into an account held overseas.”
“Can you stop him?”
“We're coordinating with the airport police. But we need grounds to detain him, and we need to be careful not to compromise the investigation.”
I thought about the box, the gun, the missing reports, and the photograph from the night of the fire.
“What if he leaves before you're ready?”
“Then we'll have to find him.”
She sat across from me.
“Evelyn, we recovered part of the original dispatch recording from the night Arthur died. It confirms that Arthur called for assistance at 8:17 p.m. The call was canceled from an internal terminal using credentials assigned to a supervisor.”
“Was Richard a supervisor?”
“No. But the terminal was accessed from a room he was authorized to enter because he was listed as a family liaison during the emergency response.”
“Who canceled the call?”
“We don't know yet.”
She opened the folder.
The financial records had revealed payments to three companies linked to Richard. One had paid for renovations at Birch Hollow two years earlier, long before I inherited the house.
The invoice described the work as structural reinforcement and concealed storage installation.
My hands went cold.
“Dad paid someone to build the false wall.”
“That's what the invoice suggests.”
“Why would he hide the box in a house he thought nobody would want?”
Quinn considered the question.
“Perhaps he didn't know exactly what was inside. Or perhaps he believed the property would never be searched.”
“Then why leave the house to me?”
“That is the question we need answered.”
A commotion erupted beyond the interview room.
An officer hurried in and spoke to Quinn in a low voice. Her face hardened.
“Where?”
She listened, then stood.
“Get a unit to the departure gates.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“Your father didn't go through the main security checkpoint. He entered the private terminal using a visitor's pass registered to someone else.”
“Can you stop him?”
“We're trying.”
She rushed out.
I followed as far as the reception area, where another officer stopped me. Through the glass doors, I saw Quinn speaking into her radio as two unmarked cars pulled away.
Ten minutes later, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Evelyn.”
My father's voice.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“Somewhere you won't find me.”
“Running away won't fix what you've done.”
A bitter laugh came through the speaker.
“You sound just like your grandmother.”
“Good.”
The silence that followed was so complete that I could hear his breathing.
Then he spoke again.
“She never understood what it takes to keep a family alive. She thought money could protect everyone. She thought telling the truth would make her innocent.”
“Did you kill Grandfather?”
He didn't answer.
“Did you kill Martin Vale?”
“Do you have any idea what that man was threatening to expose?”
“That isn't an answer.”
“He was going to destroy everything. Your grandfather was going to hand the entire company to strangers, and Martin was helping him do it.”
“So you stole the money?”
“I protected what belonged to me.”
“Did you set the fire?”
For several seconds, I heard nothing.
Then my father said, almost gently, “You should have stayed away from that house.”
The call ended.
I stared at my phone.
Quinn returned less than five minutes later.
“Did you record that conversation?”
I looked at the screen.
The call recording icon was still active.
“Yes.”
Her eyes widened.
“Evelyn, send it to me immediately.”
I transferred the file.
She listened to the final exchange twice, her expression growing more severe with each replay.
It wasn't a direct confession.
But it was the first time my father had spoken about the fire as though he knew what had happened inside the warehouse.
Quinn issued instructions to the team searching for him.
Then she looked at me.
“Your father has just given us a reason to believe he knows far more about those deaths than he's admitted.”
She paused.
“But I don't think he's running because of the old case anymore.”
“Why?”
“Because we found a second property invoice this morning.”
She placed it in front of me.
The work order was dated three weeks before Margaret died.
It was for a security system at Birch Hollow.
The invoice had been paid in cash.
May you like
And the technician's notes contained one chilling sentence.
Client requests installation of a remote-controlled ignition device inside the western wall.
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