Chapter 5 - The Sanctuary in the Woods
The rain poured in violent sheets, soaking my white wedding gown until it weighed twenty pounds, turning the manicured lawn of the Oakhaven estate into a slippery lake of mud.
I scooped Toby up into my arms, my heels sinking into the turf, and sprinted toward the dark tree line at the edge of the property.
Behind us, alarm sirens began to wail across the estate—a piercing, mechanical shriek that lit up the floodlights along the perimeter fences.
"Over there!" Toby pointed through the blinding rain, his small body shivering violently against my chest. "The old caretaker's lodge! Mom kept her spare engineering tools in the cellar!"
We scrambled up a steep embankment, pushing through thick briars and overgrown pine branches, until a small stone cabin appeared through the darkness.
I reached the porch, my lungs burning with fire, and tried the copper doorknob. Locked.
"Conrad said the master key was in his coat!" I gasped, remembering the struggle in the hallway. "I don't have it!"
"Under the third stepping stone!" Toby yelled, dropping to his knees in the mud and digging frantically. "Mom always hid a spare!"
He pulled a rusted iron key from the earth and jammed it into the deadbolt. The lock turned with a heavy, rusted click.
I shoved the door open, threw Toby inside, and slammed the heavy oak door shut, throwing the bolt into place.
The cabin was pitch black, smelling of damp cedar, old rolled paper, and engine oil.
I collapsed against the door, my heart hammering so hard I thought my ribs would snap. Rain lashed against the small stained-glass windows as the estate searchlights swept across the forest canopy outside.
"Mrs. Penelope... look," Toby whispered from the center of the room.
He had clicked on an old battery-operated construction lantern sitting on a long workbench.
The light illuminated a massive draft board covering the entire back wall of the cabin. Pins, red string, newspaper clippings, and financial spreadsheets were mapped out across a giant bulletin board.
In the center of the board was a large photograph of Helen Wheeler, surrounded by court documents, bank account numbers, and building permits for state infrastructure projects.
Clara Vance hadn't just been a victim. Before she died, she had built an entire prosecution file against her mother-in-law.
I stepped closer to the board, my mouth agape.
Pinned to the bottom left corner was a signed affidavit from a former chief coroner of Oakhaven, stating that Clara Vance's blood samples had contained toxic levels of synthetic arsenic—a poison that mimicked the symptoms of late-stage organ failure caused by advanced leukemia.
"She didn't die of cancer," I whispered, horror washing over me like ice water. "Helen poisoned her."
Toby walked up beside me, staring at his mother's handwriting on the wall.
"Mom told me once that the truth is like water," Toby said softly, his small hand reaching out to touch his mother's photograph. "She said no matter how deep you bury it under concrete, it always finds a way to leak out."
I pulled my smartphone from my wet pocket. The screen was cracked, but the device still worked.
I had three bars of cellular service.
May you like
I tapped Marcus Vance's contact photo and pressed call.
"Marcus," I said, my voice trembling with a mixture of terror and fierce determination. "I'm in Clara's secret office at the lodge. You need to call the Federal Bureau of Investigation right now."
