Chapter 4 - The Shadow of Vivian
Clara was booked into the county detention center without bail, given the severity of the video evidence and the flight risk indicated by her sudden trips to Salt Lake City. But my mind wasn't on the jail cell closing around my wife; it was on her parting threat.
Vivian is still out there.
Vivian wasn't just Clara’s sister. According to the few public records and property deeds I had casually stumbled across during our brief marriage, Vivian managed the family’s old real estate holdings—properties that had a strange history of mysterious insurance payouts following structural fires.
“Ethan?”
A small voice whispered from the top of the stairs. Harper peered down through the wooden banister, her oversized sweater swallowing her hands, Scout clutched tightly against her chest.
“They took her?” she asked, her voice barely audible over the hum of the refrigerator.
“Yes, sweetheart,” I said, walking slowly up the steps so as not to startle her. I knelt down beside her on the landing. “Clara isn't coming back here. You are safe now. The police and the social workers are going to help us.”
“What about Aunt Vivian?” Harper’s lower lip quivered. “Mommy said Vivian has the matches.”
My blood ran cold.
“Where does Vivian live, Harper?”
“The old mill house,” she whispered, her eyes wide with dread. “By the Whispering Creek woods. That’s where Mommy goes when she needs to... make things disappear.”
I didn’t hesitate. I pulled out my cell phone, dialed Sergeant Vance’s direct radio line, and gave him the address. But as I listened to the phone ring with an endless series of unanswered tones, a heavy dread settled into my stomach.
The police were busy processing Clara at the precinct. If Vivian knew Clara had been arrested—and in the age of police scanners and instant news alerts, she certainly did—she wouldn't wait for a warrant. She would try to erase every trace of evidence linking their family to whatever dark secrets were buried out at that old mill.
“Harper,” I said firmly, standing up and grabbing my car keys from the kitchen counter. “We need to go. Pack a bag right now. Everything you love. We’re going to the hospital with Dr. Morales.”
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“Are we running away?” Harper asked, her eyes filling with tears.
“No,” I told her, opening her bedroom door and helping her throw clothes into a canvas duffel. “We’re going to make sure nobody ever hurts you again. And then, we’re going to end this once and for all.”
