Chapter 4 - The Intruder in the Parlor
“Stay in the car,” Daniel whispered fiercely, killing the engine and reaching into the glove compartment to pull out a heavy metal tire iron.
“No way,” I hissed back, grabbing my phone and checking the flashlight app. “That’s Richard in there. He’s looking for the ledgers for Diane. If he finds them first, they’ll burn every piece of evidence before morning.”
Before Daniel could argue, I pushed my door open, slipping out into the cold drizzle. The wet grass soaked through my sneakers instantly as we crept across the overgrown lawn of the Maple Street estate, keeping low beneath the shadow of the massive, weeping maples that framed the wraparound porch.
The front door was standing slightly ajar, the heavy oak frame splintered around the latch where someone had forced it open with a crowbar.
Inside, the house smelled of dust, old floorboards, and damp wallpaper. The beam of Richard’s flashlight swept erratically across the high ceilings of the formal parlor, casting long, dancing shadows against the peeling floral wallpaper.
Clank.
The sound of a crowbar hitting wood echoed from the back hallway near the old study.
Daniel motioned for me to stay back, his jaw clenched, his knuckles white around the tire iron as he stepped silently across the threshold. I followed right behind him, my heart pounding so loudly in my ears I was certain Richard could hear it.
“Damn it, where is it?” Richard’s voice muttered angrily from the dark hallway, followed by the sound of drywall cracking under a heavy blow. “Diane said it was behind the wainscoting near the library desk.”
Daniel rounded the corner into the hallway with sudden, controlled fury, shining his phone light directly into Richard’s eyes.
“Drop the crowbar, Richard,” Daniel barked, his voice echoing off the bare walls.
Richard spun around, dropping the metal bar with a loud clatter against the hardwood floor. He blinked hard against the sudden glare, his face twisting into an ugly snarl when he saw it was just us.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Richard spat, wiping sweat from his forehead. “This is private family property! You’re trespassing!”
“*We* are the legal owners of this property,” I stepped past Daniel, my voice shaking with a cold fury that surprised even me. “You’re the one breaking and entering with a crowbar, Richard. I’m calling the police right now.”
I raised my phone, dialing 911 on the screen.
Panic flashed across Richard’s face for a split second, replaced instantly by a malicious, desperate grin.
“Go ahead, call them,” Richard laughed, stepping back toward the open study window. “Call the cops and tell them your precious little mother-in-law sent me here to secure the premises. But before they get here, you might want to look at what I just pulled out of the wall.”
He pointed a shaking finger toward the gaping hole in the wainscoting behind him.
Resting on the dusty floorboards inside the wall cavity wasn't a ledger or a box of papers.
It was an old, rusted metal lockbox, its lid pried open—and it was completely, undeniably empty.
May you like
Richard grabbed his jacket off the chair, laughing darkly as he scrambled backward through the open window into the backyard. “Too late, Claire. Diane already has what she needs to bury you.”
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