Chapter 2 - The Shadows of Oakhaven
The study on the ground floor smelled of cedar, old paper, and the fresh jasmine Frank had brought in from the garden to calm Katherine's breathing.
Katherine sat curled up in the leather armchair near the unlit fireplace. She was still wearing her ivory silk wedding gown, though the delicate lace trim along the hem was torn and smudged with dust. Her long brown hair was tangled, falling around her face like a veil. She was shivering uncontrollably, clutching a wool blanket Frank had draped over her shoulders.
I approached her slowly, dropping to my knees beside her chair, keeping my hands resting visibly on the armrest so as not to startle her.
"Katherine," I whispered softly. "It's Eleanor. I'm here, sweetheart. You're safe."
She slowly lifted her head. Her dark eyes were bloodshot, surrounded by swollen red skin, her chest heaving in erratic, shallow gasps.
"He... he had pictures, Mom," she choked out, her fingers tightening around the blanket. "He waited until the guests left... until you and Robert went to your room. He locked the bedroom door, walked over to his desk, and laid out dozens of old photographs on the vanity table."
"Photographs of what, darling?" I asked gently.
"Of a girl... a girl named Beatrice," Katherine sobbed, pressing her face into her hands. "He had photos of her car accident. Photos of her tombstone. He stood over me and told me that every touch, every kiss, every promise he made over the last two years was designed to lead to tonight. He said he was going to make sure I spent the rest of my life paying off a debt I don't even understand!"
Frank stepped forward from the doorway, holding a glass of cold water. "Katherine, did Caleb lay a hand on you tonight? Did he strike you?"
Katherine shook her head frantically. "No! He didn't hit me! He just... he looked at me with so much hatred it felt like he was suffocating me. He grabbed my wrist and forced me to look at a police report from 2023. He told me I murdered his girlfriend!"
I leaned in, taking her cold, trembling hand in mine. "Katherine, look at me. Look at my eyes."
She forced herself to meet my gaze.
"Did you know Beatrice?" I asked, keeping my voice as steady as a bedrock. "Were you on Route 9 the night she died?"
Katherine’s eyes widened in pure, unadulterated shock. "Route 9? Three years ago? Eleanor, three years ago I was living in Chicago! I didn't even move to Oakhaven Springs until fourteen months ago when the regional hospital hired me as an administrator! I didn't even know Caleb three years ago!"
A heavy, suffocating silence descended upon the study.
Frank dropped his glass of water. It shattered against the hardwood floor, water and shards of crystal splashing across his leather shoes.
"What did you say?" Frank whispered, stepping closer. "You were in Chicago?"
"Yes!" Katherine cried, her voice rising in desperate panic. "I was working at Saint Jude Memorial in downtown Chicago! My employment records, my apartment lease, my tax filings—they all prove it! I didn't own a silver sedan! I drove a blue hatchback that I sold before I moved here!"
I stood up slowly, the blood in my veins turning to pure ice.
If Katherine was in Chicago three years ago... if she had never driven a silver sedan... if she had never met Beatrice...
Then my son had spent two years planning the systematic destruction of an entirely innocent woman based on a delusion.
Suddenly, heavy, rapid footsteps echoed from the floor above us.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
A loud crash shattered the silence of the upper level, followed by the sound of glass breaking in the master suite.
"Robert!" I screamed, turning and sprinting out of the study toward the central staircase.
Frank was right behind me, his heavy boots slamming against the oak steps. As we rounded the landing of the second floor, we saw the door to the master bedroom standing wide open.
Robert was lying on the hallway runner, clutching his left shoulder, groaning in pain.
"Robert!" I cried, throwing myself down beside my husband. "What happened?!"
May you like
"He... he threw the bedside lamp at me," Robert wheezed, his face gray with shock and pain. "He jumped out the low window onto the porch roof... Eleanor, he took his truck keys! He took the ledger!"
Through the open window at the end of the hall, the loud, aggressive roar of a V8 engine shattered the stillness of the neighborhood. Tires shrieked against the gravel driveway as Caleb’s black pickup truck tore out into the darkness, its headlights cutting two blinding beams through the foggy night before vanishing down Bayberry Lane toward the highway.
