Chapter 8: The Man in the Red Light
The gun pointed at me for less than three seconds.
It felt like three years.
The emergency lights painted the hallway in pulses of red.
Red.
Dark.
Red.
The man's face appeared, disappeared, appeared again.
Thomas moved first.
He stepped in front of me.
“Put it down.””
The man laughed.
“You always did think you were brave, Thomas.””
My stomach dropped.
I knew that voice.
Not from fourteen years ago.
From last month.
From the phone.
A number Victor had called repeatedly before his surgery.
I looked at him carefully.
“Mark?””
The man lowered the gun by an inch.
“Finally.””
Ethan whispered, “Mom, who is that?””
“Victor's head of security.””
Mark smiled.
“Formerly.””
Daniel stepped forward.
“Hospital security is on its way.””
Mark shook his head.
“They won't make it in time.””
Thomas stared at him.
“Why are you doing this?””
Mark's expression changed.
“Because Victor promised me protection.””
“He promised everyone something,” Thomas said.
Mark looked toward the ICU.
“Not everyone.””
The lights flashed again.
I could see Victor through the glass.
His eyes were open.
He was watching us.
And when he saw Mark, terror crossed his face.
Not surprise.
Terror.
I realized something.
Victor hadn't summoned Mark tonight.
Mark had come because someone else had sent him.
I looked at him.
“Who sent you?””
He said nothing.
“Victor?””
“No.””
“Then who?””
His gaze shifted to the blue envelope in Thomas's hand.
“That.””
Thomas tightened his grip.
Mark raised the gun again.
“Give it to me.””
Thomas didn't move.
I said, “It belongs to me.””
Mark looked at me.
“Then you should know what's inside it.””
“You don't.””
“I know enough.””
“What is it?””
He smiled.
“Your father's last insurance policy.””
I felt cold.
Daniel whispered, “What does that mean?””
Mark ignored him.
“Give me the envelope.””
“No.””
His jaw tightened.
“You have no idea what you're holding.””
“I've heard that tonight.””
“Claire,” Thomas said quietly, “don't.””
Mark laughed.
“You see? He still won't tell you.””
I looked at Thomas.
“Tell me what?””
Nothing.
Thomas kept his eyes on Mark.
Mark said, “Ask him where he was the night your father died.””
My heart slammed against my ribs.
I turned to Thomas.
“Where were you?””
Thomas didn't answer.
“Thomas.””
“I was there.””
Mark smiled.
“There it is.””
Ethan looked at him.
“You were there?””
Thomas nodded.
“I was at the lake house.””
“Why?””
“Your grandfather asked me to meet him.””
“And?””
Thomas looked at me.
“He was afraid.””
Mark interrupted.
“He was more than afraid.””
I stepped toward him.
“Tell me.””
“He had discovered the account.””
“What account?””
“The account your husband used to fund everything.””
I shook my head.
“You already told me that.””
Mark's eyes hardened.
“No. I told you about the money.””
He looked toward the ICU.
“I'm talking about the account that paid someone to make your father's death look accidental.””
The hallway went silent.
Ethan stared at him.
“Who?””
Mark didn't answer.
I did.
“Victor?””
Mark's expression was unreadable.
“Not exactly.””
Victor suddenly began pounding weakly against the glass from inside the room.
A nurse turned toward him.
“Mr. Hale, please stay still.””
Victor pointed frantically at Mark.
The monitor began climbing.
Mark turned his head.
“Your husband knows.””
I looked through the glass.
Victor mouthed something.
I couldn't hear him.
I read his lips.
*Drawer.*
Then he pointed at Ethan.
*Key.*
Ethan looked down at the brass key.
Mark saw it.
Everything changed.
“Give me the key too.””
Ethan stepped backward.
“No.””
Mark raised the gun.
“Now.””
I moved between them.
“Take mine.””
Thomas grabbed my shoulder.
“Don't.””
Mark's eyes stayed on Ethan.
“That key opens something worth more than all eight properties.””
I looked at the brass key.
“The drawer.””
Mark nodded.
“The drawer.””
“What is inside?””
“Your father knew.””
“Stop talking in circles.””
He exhaled.
“Your father kept a recording.””
My breath caught.
“A recording of what?””
“Victor.””
“Doing what?””
“Confessing.””
The monitor inside the ICU screamed again.
Victor's body jerked.
Doctors rushed around him.
Mark's eyes flicked toward the room.
“That recording proves Victor knew your father was going to die.””
I shook my head.
“Then why did Victor transfer the properties to Lucas tonight?””
Mark smiled.
“Because he thought Lucas would give him leverage.””
I understood.
“Leverage over me.””
“Yes.””
“But Lucas isn't his son.””
“No.””
“Then whose son is he?””
Mark's eyes shifted toward the family room.
“Ask Melissa.””
I turned.
She was standing there, motionless.
Lucas was beside her.
Her face was wet with tears.
“Melissa.””
She shook her head.
“Please.””
“Whose son is Lucas?””
“I don't know.””
“You said Anne gave birth to him.””
“Yes.””
“Then who was the father?””
She looked at Thomas.
Then at Mark.
Then at me.
“The man Victor was afraid of.””
“Who?””
She opened her mouth.
Before she could answer, the hospital fire alarm erupted.
Sprinklers burst from the ceiling.
People screamed.
Mark looked up.
Thomas grabbed my arm.
“Move!””
We ran.
Not toward the elevator.
Toward the stairwell.
Ethan followed.
Daniel pulled Melissa and Lucas after us.
Behind us, Mark shouted.
“STOP!””
Nobody did.
We slammed through the stairwell door.
The concrete stairs smelled of rain and dust.
Ethan was breathing hard.
“What is happening?””
“Keep moving,” I said.
“Mom!””
“We don't have time.””
We ran down one flight.
Then another.
Thomas stopped suddenly.
“Wait.””
I turned.
“What?””
He pulled the blue envelope from his coat.
“The recording.””
My eyes widened.
“You said it was a letter.””
“The letter was a cover.””
“What recording?””
“Your father hid it inside the lining.””
He tore open the inner paper.
A tiny black device slipped into his palm.
A voice recorder.
Old.
Scratched.
But intact.
I stared at it.
“You knew this was there?””
“I suspected.””
“You suspected?””
“Your father told me he had proof.””
“Why didn't you give it to me?””
“Because Victor spent fourteen years searching for it.””
Ethan stared at the recorder.
“Then why didn't he find it?””
Thomas looked at him.
“Because your grandfather hid it where Victor would never look.””
“Where?””
Thomas looked at me.
“Inside the document he most feared.””
I frowned.
“The trust.””
Thomas nodded.
“The original trust.””
I suddenly remembered the line in my father's note.
*The originals are there. Not copies.*
The lake house.
The trust documents.
The recording.
Everything had been hidden together.
Mark wanted the envelope because it contained the location.
Victor wanted the drawer because it contained proof.
And someone wanted us dead before we reached either one.
A heavy bang shook the stairwell door above us.
Mark had found us.
Daniel whispered, “We need another exit.””
Thomas pointed downward.
“Basement.””
We ran.
At the bottom, the door opened into a dark service corridor.
Ethan grabbed my hand.
“Mom.””
“What?””
“There.””
He pointed toward a security monitor.
The screen flickered.
Camera feeds appeared.
One showed the front entrance.
Another showed the ICU.
Another showed the parking garage.
Then one image stopped me.
A black SUV was parked beside my car.
Its rear door was open.
A man stood beside it.
I couldn't see his face.
But I recognized the coat.
Gray.
The same coat Victor wore the night my father died.
No.
Not Victor.
He was too tall.
Thomas came beside me.
His face changed.
“You know him?””
I nodded slowly.
“I've seen him.””
“Where?””
“At Victor's company.””
“Name?””
I searched my memory.
Then it came.
“Jonathan Reed.””
Thomas went pale.
“That's impossible.””
“Why?””
“Jonathan died fourteen years ago.””
Ethan looked at him.
“You're saying someone who died is waiting outside?””
Thomas stared at the monitor.
“No.””
He pointed at the screen.
“That isn't Jonathan.””
“Then who?””
Thomas's voice dropped.
“His son.””
A sound came from behind us.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Mark entered the corridor.
The gun was still in his hand.
But his expression had changed.
He looked at the security monitor.
Then at me.
Then at Thomas.
“You saw him.””
Thomas nodded.
Mark lowered his weapon.
For the first time, he looked frightened.
“He wasn't supposed to come here.””
I stared at him.
“Who?””
Mark swallowed.
“Adrian Reed.””
Thomas whispered, “No.””
Mark looked at me.
“He's the one Victor has been paying for fourteen years.””
My blood turned cold.
“Paying for what?””
Mark said nothing.
I stepped toward him.
“Paying him to do what?””
Mark looked at the stairwell door.
Then back at me.
“To make sure you never discovered who really killed your father.””
Before I could speak, the lights went out again.
A man's voice came through the darkness.
Calm.
Close.
Almost amused.
“Claire.””
I stopped breathing.
The voice continued.
“Your husband told me you'd eventually come looking for the lake house.””
Then a hand touched my shoulder from behind.
May you like
And a whisper brushed my ear.
“He forgot to tell you the lake house belongs to me now.””
