Chapter 4 - Shadows at the Lake
I cut the headlights of my car, letting the vehicle coast silently off the gravel and into the dense shadow of a cluster of tall pine trees. Mara instinctively reached into her bag, pulling out a small pepper spray canister and checking her phone to ensure the GPS tracking was synced with local authorities.
"They're already inside," Mara whispered, peering through the windshield at the dark silhouette of the lake house.
A faint amber glow flickered behind the living room windows. Someone had turned on a lamp, ignoring the heavy curtains that usually kept the cabin hidden from the water.
"Stay here," I murmured, sliding the car door open with practiced silence.
"Emma, no, that's suicide," Mara hissed, grabbing my wrist. "Let the police handle it. We called them ten minutes ago."
"The police are twenty miles away down a mountain road," I replied, gently releasing her grip. "If they start burning documents or destroying Daniel’s office before the authorities arrive, we’ll lose everything. Stay on the phone with dispatch. If I'm not back out in ten minutes, send them in."
Without waiting for her reply, I slipped out into the cool, damp night air.
The forest was dead silent, save for the distant, rhythmic splashing of the lake against the wooden dock. I crept along the edge of the property, keeping low beneath the rhododendron bushes until I reached the back porch.
The sliding glass door to the kitchen was unlocked.
That immediately sent a red flag through my mind. I never left that door unlocked. Someone had forced the latch, or worse, they had a duplicate key—one that matched the master set Evan had asked to borrow last month under the guise of "fixing the broken screen door."
I slipped inside the kitchen, the familiar scent of pine wood and old paper welcoming me.
Footsteps echoed softly from the hallway upstairs—the exact location of Daniel’s private study.
I crept toward the staircase, keeping my weight on the outer edges of the wooden steps to prevent them from creaking. As I reached the second-floor landing, the door to the study stood ajar, casting a narrow beam of yellow light across the dark hallway.
"...I'm telling you, it’s not in the filing cabinet," a gruff, unfamiliar voice muttered inside the room.
"Check behind the wall paneling," a second voice snapped back. This voice made my blood run cold. It wasn’t one of Evan’s low-level associates. It was a voice I had heard once before, six months ago, at a corporate gala where a high-ranking executive from Vane Industries had cornered me to ask uncomfortably detailed questions about Daniel’s personal estate.
Director Harrison.
"The widow’s wedding failed," Harrison’s voice continued, cold and calculating. "Sterling is locked up, which means the legal transfer failed. We don't have time to wait for court orders. Find the original hard drives with the encryption keys, burn the rest of the room, and make it look like an electrical fire."
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
Burn the house down. They were planning to destroy everything—our memories, Sophie’s heritage, and the proof of what they had done to Daniel.
I needed a distraction, and I needed it immediately.
I backed away from the study door, my eyes scanning the dark hallway. Near the guest bedroom, an old grandfather clock ticked rhythmically. Without hesitation, I marched over to the clock, swung the heavy wooden door open, and shoved the brass pendulum sideways, sending the weights crashing down inside the casing with a tremendous, metallic clatter.
"What was that?!" a voice barked inside the study.
Heavy boots hit the hardwood floor as both men rushed out into the hallway.
May you like
"Check the stairs!" Harrison ordered.
I didn't run down. Instead, I ducked quickly into the dark linen closet, pulling the louvered door closed just as a flashlight beam swept across the hallway outside.
