Chapter 10 - WHERE IS MY SON?I don't remember the drive.
Only Sarah screaming at me through the phone not to speed.
Only Alvarez telling units to move.
Only one thought.
Noah.
Mark answered on the fourth call.
“Where is he?”
“Safe.”
“I swear to God—”
“Clara, listen.”
“Put Noah on.”
Silence.
“NOW.”
Then:
“Mom?”
My knees nearly failed.
“Baby.”
“Uncle Mark picked me up.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
Mark took the phone.
“Old Hale lake house.”
“I’m coming.”
“No police.”
I laughed.
“You kidnapped my child.”
“I protected him.”
“From who?”
“Ryan.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“Ask your husband why he went to Linda’s house.”
“I will after Noah is safe.”
“He went for the original trust.”
“Why?”
“Because he's planning to destroy it.”
I didn't believe him.
But I didn't dismiss him either.
That was what this family had done wrong for years.
Believed whoever spoke most confidently.
I called Ryan.
He answered immediately.
“Where’s Noah?”
“With Mark.”
“Jesus.”
“Why were you at Linda’s?”
Silence.
“Ryan.”
“To get the trust.”
“Why?”
“Because Mark wants it.”
“That's not an answer.”
“He can't get it.”
“Why?”
Ryan breathed.
“Because Dad didn't just exclude Mark.”
“What did he do?”
“He left evidence.”
“Of what?”
“That Mark killed him.”
I stopped driving.
Pulled onto the shoulder.
“What evidence?”
“A letter.”
“Where?”
“Inside the original trust packet.”
“And Linda had it?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't she use it?”
“Because Mark knows what she did with the grandchildren’s money.”
Mutual destruction.
They had protected each other through blackmail.
For six years.
“Ryan, did you know this?”
“Not until last night.”
Maybe true.
Maybe another lie.
I arrived at the lake house with police hidden down the road.
Mark stood on the porch.
Noah beside him.
I ran.
Noah reached me.
I grabbed him.
Mark didn't stop me.
“Take him.”
I stared.
“You could have called.”
“You wouldn't believe me.”
“You kidnapped my child.”
“I made sure Ryan couldn't reach him.”
“You're insane.”
“Maybe.”
Then he handed me a sealed envelope.
Thomas’s handwriting.
TO CLARA, IF RYAN EVER FAILS NOAH.
My blood ran cold.
“How could Thomas write to me?”
“He didn't.”
Mark smiled faintly.
“Look closer.”
Different handwriting beneath.
Caroline’s.
She had added my name later.
I opened it.
Inside:
A copy of Thomas’s autopsy.
Toxicology.
A handwritten note.
DIGOXIN LEVEL INCONSISTENT WITH PRESCRIPTION HISTORY.
Thomas had heart medication.
But not digoxin.
I looked at Mark.
“Who gave it to him?”
Mark's face hardened.
“Linda.”
Then headlights appeared.
Ryan’s car.
He stepped out.
Saw Noah.
Saw Mark.
Then saw the toxicology report in my hand.
His face went white.
May you like
Mark whispered:
“Now ask your husband why his fingerprints were on the pill bottle.”
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