Chapter 7 - What Was Beneath the Water
Within ten minutes, the property was swarming with law enforcement. Red and blue lights flashed against the wet trees, illuminating the burning remains of the garden shed as firefighters tackled the blazes.
Emergency medical technicians rushed into the basement, placing Elena on a gurney and wrapping her in thermal blankets. As they wheeled her past me, I walked alongside her, holding her cold, trembling hand.
“David...” she sobbed, tears cutting through the grime on her face. “Maya... is she—”
“She’s safe, Elena,” I said softly, wiping a lock of hair from her bruised forehead. “She’s with Martha. She’s completely safe.”
Elena closed her eyes, letting out a long, shuddering sob of relief. “I’m so sorry, David. I was so stupid. He threatened to kill her if I said anything... he made me sign those papers...”
“Don't talk now,” I urged gently. “Just rest. The doctors are going to take care of you.”
As the ambulance took Elena away, Detective Sarah Lin—a sharp-eyed woman in a heavy trench coat—approached me and Marcus on the lawn.
Marcus handed her the firebox and Julian’s red notebook.
“This contains three years of financial fraud, forged deeds, and documented premeditated attempted murder,” Marcus said. “Including the identities of his previous victims.”
Detective Lin flipped through the red notebook, her expression growing darker with every page. “This is monstrous. But what about the swimming pool? Your report mentioned heavy weighted bags.”
I turned and looked at the green, scummy water of the pool. A specialized police dive team in heavy black wetsuits was already lowering equipment into the shallow end.
“We need to drain it,” I said, my voice barely louder than a whisper. “My daughter saw him throwing them in three nights ago.”
Detective Lin nodded to her team. High-powered water pumps were brought in, their engines roaring to life as thick hoses began draining thousands of gallons of murky water into the drainage street channels.
For two hours, we stood in the rain, watching the water level drop foot by foot.
As the scummy green water drained away, revealing the stained concrete floor of the deep end, the three heavy black industrial bags lay exposed in the center.
Two divers descended into the empty pool with flashlights and tactical gear. Detective Lin stood at the edge, her hand resting on her holster.
The lead diver knelt beside the largest bag, carefully cutting the synthetic rope with a pair of shears. He unzipped the heavy plastic liner just an inch, shone his flashlight inside, and immediately backed away, turning his head to cover his mouth.
He looked up at Detective Lin and shook his head gravely.
“It’s human remains, Detective,” the diver called up, his voice heavy. “Looks like two different bodies. Highly decomposed.”
I took a step back, stomach churning.
Detective Lin looked at me, her eyes filled with grim realization. “He wasn't just abusing your family, David. This yard was a graveyard.”
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Later analysis by the state forensics team confirmed the horrific truth: the remains belonged to Clara Mercer—Julian’s previous wife who had 'disappeared' two years prior—and Julian’s former business partner who had threatened to expose his illegal schemes six months ago.
Julian Thorne hadn't just built a home with Elena; he had turned her property into a dumping ground for the lives he had destroyed.
