Chapter 8 - THE BELL TOWER
The church had been abandoned for eleven years.
No electricity.
No priest.
No congregation.
Just stone walls surrounded by Virginia forest.
I arrived at 9:18 p.m. with Marcus and Detective Chen two hundred yards behind me.
No sirens.
No lights.
Arthur had demanded I come alone.
I intended to make him believe I had.
The old wooden doors opened with a groan.
Inside, moonlight crossed broken pews.
Rebecca’s voice lived in my head.
Nothing bad can reach us here.
I walked toward the altar.
Behind it stood the narrow staircase leading to the bell tower.
Halfway up, I found something carved into the wood.
R.H.
Rebecca’s initials.
Below them:
D + E.
Daniel and Emily.
My throat tightened.
I followed the mark to a loose floorboard beneath the tower window.
Under it was a metal box.
No lock.
Inside:
A black ledger.
Three cassette tapes.
A photograph.
And a sealed letter addressed to Emily.
I touched none of it for several seconds.
Rebecca had hidden the truth less than thirty miles from our home.
All those years.
Then a voice came from below.
“You always were predictable.”
Arthur Whitmore.
I closed the box.
Footsteps climbed the stairs.
Arthur appeared.
Older.
Thinner.
White hair.
But very much alive.
A pistol in his hand.
Margaret stood behind him.
No elegance now.
No socialite smile.
Just rage.
“Where’s Emily?”
Arthur smiled.
“Safe.”
“Show me.”
“Ledger first.”
Margaret stepped forward.
“You ruined this family once.”
I looked at her.
“You pinned my daughter to a bathroom floor and cut her hair.”
“She was going to expose everything.”
“You drugged her.”
“She wouldn’t listen.”
Arthur’s expression hardened.
“That was Margaret’s mistake.”
Margaret turned.
“Excuse me?”
“I told you to control her, not create a medical trail.”
There it was.
Even monsters had management disputes.
I held the metal box.
“Emily first.”
Arthur raised the gun.
“You’re retired, Daniel. Stop negotiating like you still have a badge.”
“I never needed the badge.”
He laughed.
Then a sound came from somewhere outside.
A car door.
Arthur glanced toward the window.
Just once.
Enough.
I threw the metal box.
It struck his wrist.
The gun fired into the ceiling.
Margaret screamed.
I drove into Arthur.
We hit the wall.
The gun fell.
Footsteps thundered up the stairs.
Chen.
Marcus.
Then another shot.
Everybody froze.
Margaret was holding the gun.
Pointed at me.
Her hands shook.
“Stop.”
Arthur was bleeding from his forehead.
“Margaret, give me the weapon.”
“No.”
Something in her face had broken.
“You promised me this would be over.”
Arthur stared at her.
“It will.”
“You promised fourteen years ago.”
My mind caught the words.
Fourteen years.
Before Arthur supposedly died.
Margaret had known the entire time.
Then headlights swept through the church windows.
A vehicle stopped outside.
Arthur smiled.
“She’s here.”
My heart slammed.
“Emily?”
“No.”
A woman’s voice called from below.
“Daniel?”
I froze.
Not Emily.
Impossible.
Rebecca.
I knew that voice.
Even after thirteen years.
Even through death.
My wife’s voice.
Marcus looked at me.
Chen whispered:
“Who is that?”
Footsteps approached the stairs.
May you like
Arthur started laughing.
And for the second time in one day, a dead person walked back into my life.
