Chapter 3 - SHADOWS IN THE DARK
My blood ran cold.
Jean was supposed to be on a plane to Paris. Who was inside the house?
I turned off my phone light instantly, plunging the study into pitch-black darkness. I crouched low behind David’s massive executive oak desk, pulling my knees tight to my chest, barely daring to breathe.
The footsteps crept up the glass staircase. Heavy boots squeaked against the polished steps.
"Check the study," a man's low, gravelly voice whispered from the hallway. "She said the kid didn't take anything, but we need to be sure before we set the fire."
Set the fire?!
My heart slammed against my throat so violently I thought it would burst.
Another voice replied, sharp and impatient. "The flight leaves in two hours, Marcus. Jean delayed the departure time so we could finish cleaning up this place. If the cops find David’s old hard drives in the ashes, the whole insurance claim goes down the drain."
Jean hadn't left for Europe yet. She had lied to me about her flight time. She was still in the city, paying hired thugs to burn her late husband’s house to the ground to destroy every last shred of evidence!
The study door swung wide open.
A bright, high-powered LED flashlight beam cut through the darkness, sweeping across the overturned drawers, the smashed picture frames, and the scattered files.
"Looks like a hurricane hit it," the man named Marcus grunted, stepping into the room. He was a tall, broad-shouldered figure wearing a black tactical jacket and a dark ski mask. "Jean pulled this room apart three times already. There’s nothing here."
"Check the floorboards," the second man ordered, standing in the doorway. "She said David had a habit of hiding things under the oak planks near his desk."
The light shifted toward the desk—right where I was hiding.
Panic surged through me like an electric shock. If they rounded the corner of the heavy oak desk, they would find me crouched on the floor holding the safe deposit key.
I looked around frantically in the dark. Beside my right hand sat a heavy brass paperweight on the lower shelf of the desk.
I grabbed the paperweight, drew back my arm, and tossed it through the open doorway into the far corner of the hallway outside.
CRASH!
The heavy brass object shattered a glass vase sitting on the hallway pedestal.
"What the hell was that?!" Marcus barked, spinning around.
"Someone's in the house!" the second man yelled. "Downstairs! Check the hallway!"
Both men pulled weapons from their jackets and sprinted back toward the staircase, their heavy footsteps pounding down the hallway floorboards.
I didn't waste a single second.
I scrambled out from behind the desk, slipped out of the study, and darted down the dark east corridor toward the servant’s staircase at the rear of the house. I tore down the narrow stairs, pushed through the laundry room exit, and burst out into the cool, rainy night air.
I didn't stop running until I reached my car two blocks away.
I slammed the door, locked it, and threw the Subaru into drive, my hands shaking so violently I could barely turn the steering wheel.
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As I pulled out onto the main road, I looked in my rearview mirror. A bright orange glow was already beginning to reflect against the low clouds over Oak Ridge.
Jean’s house was ablaze.
