Chapter 27 - THE SURVIVOR AT THE GATE
The cold, torrential rain hit Evan’s face like needles as they emerged from the low arched maintenance port behind the stone foundations of the east wing. Sirens painted the wet asphalt in rhythmic pulses of crimson and cobalt. High above them, flames tore through the slate roof of the manor, illuminating the stormy sky in terrifying shades of blood orange and charcoal.
Three state troopers with drawn weapons converged on them instantly through the dripping rhododendrons, flashlight beams cutting through the gloom.
"Down! On the ground! Identify yourselves!"
"It’s Evan Whitaker! I’m the owner’s nephew—this is my daughter!" Evan yelled, shielding Sophie as he collapsed onto the muddy lawn, his knees finally giving out from exhaustion.
"Hold your fire! Hold your fire!" A sharp, authoritative voice commanded. Judith Mercer stepped forward from behind the front cruiser, her trench coat drenched, flanked by Captain Walker of the State Bureau of Investigation. "That’s Evan Whitaker. And Grace Miller. Get the medics over here immediately!"
Emergency blankets were thrown over Sophie’s trembling shoulders. Grace sank onto the running board of an ambulance, refusing oxygen while paramedics tended to the chemical burns along her wrists. Her eyes never left the burning facade of the manor.
"Where is Charles?" Captain Walker demanded, kneeling beside Evan. "My men breached the gate after your attorney produced the warrant. We heard an explosion from the upper floors."
"He was in the nursery," Evan wheezed, his throat raw from smoke. "He blew the gas junction. But he didn't die up there. He dropped into the maintenance chase before the floor gave out. He’s in the foundation."
Judith Mercer knelt beside Grace, her expression grim. "Gregory Shaw is already in custody in Boston. He cracked forty minutes ago when federal marshals seized his offshore accounts. But Charles... Charles liquidated the family treasury twelve hours ago. He didn’t just set a fire, Evan. He set a controlled demolition."
Suddenly, a high-pitched scream cut through the rain from the perimeter fence.
Two state troopers were dragging a soaked, disheveled woman away from a black sedan parked near the treeline. It was Vanessa. Her designer silk trench coat was caked in mud, her manicured fingers clawing at the troopers' uniforms, her mascara running in dark streaks down her pale, terrified face.
"You don't understand!" Vanessa shrieked toward Evan, her voice hysterical, breaking over the sound of the sirens. "Charles didn't run to the foundation to escape! He didn't do this for the timber or the trust fund! You have no idea what’s buried beneath the bedrock! If the boilers breach, it takes the entire cliffside with it!"
Evan pushed past the paramedics, walking toward Vanessa with cold, furious strides. The woman who had raised her hand against his seven-year-old child was now reduced to a shivering wreck.
"What is down there, Vanessa?" Evan grabbed the steel frame of the open cruiser door, staring into her wide, panicked eyes. "Who were you working for?"
Vanessa’s teeth chattered violently. "I wasn't working for Charles... Charles was broke! He was a glorified warden! He was being paid to keep the vault shut! The woman who paid me... she told me to get Sophie’s fingerprint on the heir registry before tonight!"
"What woman?" Grace asked, appearing silently beside Evan, her voice steady and ice-cold.
May you like
Vanessa swallowed hard, looking toward the blazing inferno of the manor. "The woman who died thirty years ago. Caroline Whitaker."
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