Chapter 4 - The Rat in the Corner
By midnight, the mansion was silent save for the crackle of the great stone fireplace in the primary living room.
Julian Vance sat at the long mahogany desk in the library, his laptop open, scrolling through hundreds of red-flagged wire transfers while eating a sandwich the kitchen staff had prepared.
I sat nearby in a high-backed velvet armchair, a warm wool blanket wrapped around Lily as she slept peacefully in my lap. For the first time in three years, I didn’t feel the suffocating weight of fear pressing against my ribs.
A quiet knock sounded at the side garden entrance of the library.
Julian reached into his jacket, his hand resting on a sleek silver pen, while Captain Miller, who had stayed behind to secure the perimeter, stepped silently toward the door.
The heavy door creaked open, admitting a shivering figure covered in snow.
It was Daniel.
He looked broken. His nose was red from the freezing cold, his clothes were soaked, and he was trembling so violently his teeth chattered louder than the wind outside.
“Don’t shoot,” Daniel gasped out, falling to his knees right there on the rug, lifting his hands in total surrender. “Please... Emma... don't send me to prison. I’ll tell you everything.”
Captain Miller stepped forward, but I raised a hand, stopping him.
“Why are you here, Daniel?” I asked, my voice flat and unreadable. “Richard and your mother are at the highway motel down the road. Why aren't you with them?”
“Because Richard is out of his mind!” Daniel sobbed, big tears cutting through the grime on his face. “He’s going to execute the backup plan. He’s got two million dollars in untraceable bearer bonds hidden in a locker at Logan Airport! He’s planning to flee to Dubai tomorrow morning!”
Julian Vance leaned forward, his eyes sharpening like a hawk’s. “And why are you telling us this?”
Daniel looked up at me, his eyes filled with genuine, gut-wrenching remorse.
“Because of Arthur,” Daniel choked out. “Because of what Richard did to Arthur’s car.”
The breath caught in my throat. The room seemed to plunge into sub-zero cold.
I stood up slowly, keeping Lily nestled in my arms, my gaze pinning Daniel to the floor.
“What did you just say?” I whispered.
“It wasn't a weather accident,” Daniel wept, pressing his forehead against the hardwood floor. “Arthur found out about the offshore accounts three years ago. He told Richard he was going to the District Attorney on Monday morning. That Friday night... Richard paid a mechanic in South Boston ten thousand dollars to tamper with the steering column and brake lines on Arthur’s SUV.”
I felt the ground tilt beneath my feet.
For three years, I had believed my husband died in a tragic slick-road spinout. I had wept until my eyes bled, blaming the rain, blaming the tires, blaming fate.
It wasn't fate. It was murder.
“I didn't know until after it happened!” Daniel cried out desperately, clutching his hands together in prayer. “I swear to God, Emma! Richard showed me the mechanic’s receipt three days after the funeral to force me to stay quiet! He told me if I ever said a word, he’d frame me as an accomplice!”
May you like
Captain Miller immediately pulled his digital recorder from his belt, clicking the side button.
“Daniel Sterling,” Miller said in a deadly serious tone. “Repeat what you just said into this official state record.”
