Chapter 8
The whole room went dead silent.
Ethan’s throat was so dry he could barely swallow. He squeezed Claire’s hand so tight he was afraid he’d break her fingers. She squeezed back just as hard.
The judge told the defendant to stand.
Ethan stood. His legs were shaking so bad he could barely stay up.
The jury foreman stood up. Held a piece of paper in his hand.
“On the count of conspiracy to commit fraud,” he said, his voice steady. “We the jury find the defendant… not guilty.”
A gasp went through the courtroom.
“On the count of bribery,” the foreman continued. “Not guilty.”
“On the count of tax evasion… not guilty.”
“On all remaining counts… not guilty.”
Ethan’s knees gave out. He collapsed back into his chair, sobbing, his face in his hands. Claire threw her arms around him, crying into his shoulder. Thomas was crying too, holding Noah tight, his whole body shaking. Maria pumped her fist under the table. Jake whooped so loud the judge had to bang his gavel to restore order.
It was over.
He was free.
Margaret’s trial was the next day. It lasted three hours. The jury didn’t even leave the room. They came back in 20 minutes.
Guilty on all counts.
Assault. Unlawful administration of a controlled substance. Child endangerment. Blackmail. Witness tampering.
The judge sentenced her to 45 years in prison. No parole.
As the cops led her out of the courtroom, she screamed at Ethan over her shoulder.
“I’ll get out! I’ll get out and I’ll kill you all! You haven’t seen the last of me!”
Ethan didn’t even look at her. He was too busy holding his wife and son. Too busy feeling the weight lift off his shoulders for the first time in his life.
They walked out of the courthouse together. The sun was shining. The cameras were flashing. Reporters were yelling questions. But Ethan didn’t care. He held Claire’s hand, carried Noah in his other arm, and walked straight to the car. He didn’t say a word to the press. He didn’t need to.
The next few months were a whirlwind of rebuilding.
The board of Collins Construction begged Ethan to come back as CEO. He said no. He’d had enough of the corporate world. Enough of the lies and the deals and the pressure. He sold his shares in the company, took the money, and started a small, family-owned construction firm with Thomas. They built affordable housing for low-income families. Did everything above board. No shortcuts. No bribes. Just honest work.
Claire made partner at her firm. She designed a new children’s wing for the Dallas hospital that had saved Noah’s life. She was on the cover of Texas Monthly as “Architect of the Year.” She was happier than Ethan had ever seen her. Bold. Sharp. Alive.
Noah turned one. They had a big party in the backyard. All their friends. Jake and his wife. Maria and her kids. A hundred people laughing and eating cake and watching Noah smash his face into a giant cupcake shaped like a construction truck.
Ethan stood on the porch, holding a beer, watching them. Claire was laughing, chasing Noah around the yard. Thomas was manning the grill, flipping burgers like he’d been doing it his whole life.
It was perfect.
But Ethan couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Margaret’s words kept echoing in his head. I’ll get out. I’ll kill you all.
He knew she was in a maximum-security prison 200 miles away. Knew she had no chance of parole for at least 30 years. Knew she’d be 90 by the time she got out, if she lived that long.
But still.
He couldn’t relax. He checked the security cameras 10 times a night. Woke up at the slightest sound. Kept a loaded gun in the safe by the bed.
Claire noticed.
“Hey,” she said one night, crawling into bed beside him. She took the phone out of his hand—he was checking the camera feeds again. “Put it down. She’s gone, Ethan. She’s never coming back. We’re safe.”
Ethan pulled her close. Kissed her forehead.
“I know,” he said. “I know. It’s just… hard to turn it off, you know? After all those months of waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
Claire snuggled into his chest.
“I know,” she said. “But we have each other. We have Noah. We have Dad. That’s all that matters. The past is the past. Let’s just focus on the future. Okay?”
“Okay,” Ethan said.
He turned off the lights. Held her tight. Tried to sleep.
He should have listened to his gut.
Three weeks later, Ethan was at the new office, going over blueprints for a housing development, when his phone rang. It was the warden of the prison where Margaret was being held.
“Mr. Collins?” the warden said. His voice was tight. Urgent.
“This is he,” Ethan said. A cold feeling spread through his chest.
“I’m calling to inform you that your mother, Margaret Collins, escaped from custody approximately two hours ago. She was being transported to a medical appointment in Abilene when her transport van was run off the road by a black SUV. Two armed men broke her out. They killed both guards. We believe she had outside help.”
Ethan’s blood turned to ice.
“Where is she now?” he said, his voice barely a whisper.
“We don’t know,” the warden said. “But we have every law enforcement agency in the state looking for her. Mr. Collins… she specifically asked for you during her last therapy session. Said she had ‘unfinished business.’ I need you to get your family somewhere safe. Right now. Do you understand me?”
Ethan was already running for the door.
“I understand,” he said.
He called Claire. No answer.
Called Thomas. No answer.
He called the house phone. It rang and rang. No answer.
He broke every speed limit driving home. His hands were shaking so bad he could barely hold the steering wheel. He called 911, told them his mother had escaped prison, his wife and son and dad were missing. They said they’d send units immediately.
He skidded into the driveway. The front door was wide open.
Ethan grabbed the gun out of his glove compartment. Ran inside.
The house was a mess. Furniture overturned. Broken glass on the floor. Claire’s favorite vase was shattered by the front door. Noah’s stuffed bear was lying in the middle of the living room, its head ripped off.
“Claire!” Ethan screamed. “Thomas! Noah!”
No answer.
He ran up the stairs. Checked every room. Empty. All of them.
He ran back down to the kitchen. A piece of paper was taped to the fridge. In Margaret’s perfect, looping handwriting.
You took everything from me. Now I take everything from you. Come to the old warehouse on River Road alone. If you bring the cops, I kill them all. You have one hour.
Ethan stared at the note. His whole world was shattering all over again.
He checked his watch. 55 minutes left.
He didn’t call the cops. He didn’t call Jake. He didn’t call anyone.
He grabbed his keys. Tucked the gun into the back of his jeans. Ran back out to the car.
May you like
He was gonna get his family back.
Or he was gonna die trying.
