Chapter 9 - THE HOUSE BY THE WATER
The second tracker led them to Long Island.
A waterfront property registered to a shell company connected to one of Daniel’s clients.
Rebecca wanted to wait for tactical officers.
Arthur refused to stay in the car.
“You can either arrest me or let me come.”
Rebecca stared at him.
“You’re the worst client I’ve ever had.”
“I pay well.”
“That is the only reason you’re still alive.”
Police surrounded the property before dawn.
The front door opened during the breach.
A man ran.
Officers tackled him near the seawall.
Arthur heard shouting inside.
Then a child screamed.
He moved before anyone could stop him.
“Lucas!”
“Dad!”
Arthur found him in an upstairs bedroom.
His wrists weren’t tied.
He wasn’t injured.
But he was crying.
Arthur dropped to his knees and grabbed him.
Lucas wrapped both arms around his father’s neck.
“I knew you’d come.”
Arthur pressed his face into his son’s hair.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For everything.”
Lucas pulled back.
“Maria said none of this is my fault.”
“She’s right.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s okay.”
Police searched the property.
Daniel wasn’t there.
Elena wasn’t there either.
Only hired men.
Then one detective emerged holding a laptop.
“You need to see this.”
The computer contained live feeds from hidden cameras inside Arthur’s mansion.
His bedroom.
His study.
The dining room.
The hallway outside Lucas’s room.
Arthur stared in disgust.
“How long?”
Rebecca checked file dates.
“Almost three years.”
Arthur felt sick.
They had watched him grieve.
Watched him sleep.
Watched private conversations with Lucas.
Elena had lived beside him while recording his entire life.
Then Rebecca found a folder labeled RACHEL.
Arthur’s hand froze.
“Open it.”
Inside were medical records from his first wife’s final months.
Doctor correspondence.
Medication lists.
Private hospital forms.
Arthur frowned.
“Why does Elena have these?”
Rebecca opened another file.
A spreadsheet listing dates, medications and dosage changes.
Arthur sat down.
“What am I looking at?”
Rebecca didn’t answer immediately.
That frightened him more than anything.
“Arthur, what did Rachel die from?”
“Cardiac complications.”
“Was she expected to die?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“She became sick after a respiratory infection. Then there were complications.”
“How quickly?”
“A few weeks.”
Rebecca enlarged a scanned pharmacy record.
“Did she take digoxin?”
Arthur looked confused.
“I don’t know.”
Rebecca’s face went pale.
“Her chart says no.”
“Then why are you asking?”
“Because someone purchased it in her name.”
Arthur stared.
“What does that mean?”
“It means we need Rachel’s original medical files.”
Arthur stood.
“Are you saying Elena—”
“No. I’m saying there may be another crime here.”
Arthur’s phone rang.
Maria.
Her voice was urgent.
“Arthur, you need to come back.”
“I found Lucas.”
She released a sob of relief.
“Thank God.”
“What happened?”
“I found something in Elena’s room.”
“What?”
“A photograph.”
“Of what?”
Maria was quiet.
“Not what.”
Arthur tightened his grip on the phone.
“Who?”
“A photograph of Elena.”
A pause.
“With Rachel.”
Arthur stopped breathing.
“Maria…”
“It’s dated seven years ago.”
That was two years before Rachel died.
Two years before Arthur supposedly met Elena.
May you like
Maria whispered:
“Arthur, your wives knew each other.”
