Chapter 6
I reached the rental house before the police.
Naomi was breathing.
The officer assigned to the front entrance had been struck from behind in the garage. His weapon was still holstered, but his radio and phone were gone.
The safe-room lock showed no damage.
Someone had entered the code.
Only Naomi, Rachel, Detective Hill, and I knew it.
Or that was what we believed.
Detective Hill arrived and immediately ordered officers to search the property.
I showed him Vanessa’s message.
“The red-door farmhouse,” I said.
“It’s a trap.”
“I know.”
“She wants you to go there.”
“She has Sophie.”
“And if you charge in, she may kill both of you.”
Every instinct screamed at me to ignore him.
Then I remembered Laura’s letter.
Do not let anger make you careless.
Detective Hill put a tracking device beneath my shirt and a microphone inside my collar.
A tactical team surrounded the farmhouse without approaching it.
I drove alone.
The red door stood open.
Inside, the house smelled of dust and bleach.
A child’s crying came from upstairs.
“Sophie?”
“Daddy!”
I ran toward the stairs.
Detective Hill’s voice sounded through the tiny receiver in my ear.
“Slow down. We don’t have visual confirmation.”
I reached the red bedroom.
A phone sat on the floor playing a recording of Sophie’s voice.
The room was empty.
The door slammed behind me.
I turned.
Martin Shaw stood there holding a gun.
“Put your hands where I can see them.”
“Where is my daughter?”
“Vanessa has her somewhere safe.”
“Safe?”
“Safer than she ever was with you.”
His hand trembled.
Martin looked nothing like the polished attorney from court. His shirt was wrinkled, his eyes bloodshot.
“You know she killed Laura,” I said.
“Laura was terminal.”
“That doesn’t make it legal.”
“It made it merciful.”
“Is that what Vanessa told you?”
His jaw tightened.
“Vanessa did what was necessary.”
“She is going to abandon you the same way she abandoned Grant.”
“She loves me.”
“Then why are you here holding the gun while she runs?”
The barrel shifted.
“Shut up.”
Detective Hill’s voice whispered in my ear.
“Keep him talking.”
“You drafted the fake will,” I said.
“I corrected Laura’s mistake.”
“You stole Sophie’s inheritance.”
“I protected it from a broken man.”
“You helped Vanessa abuse a child.”
“I never knew about the haircut.”
“But you knew about the videos.”
Martin’s face flickered.
Sophie had been forced to record statements in this house. Martin had likely prepared the questions.
“You told her what to make Sophie say,” I continued.
“I created evidence.”
“You created lies.”
“For court. No one was supposed to hurt her.”
“Vanessa hurts everyone.”
A sound came from the hallway.
Martin glanced toward it.
I stepped forward.
He raised the gun.
“Stop.”
The voice in my ear became urgent.
“Daniel, do not engage.”
I forced myself to stay still.
Martin’s phone rang.
Vanessa’s name appeared on the screen.
He answered on speaker.
“Is he there?” Vanessa asked.
“Yes.”
“Did he bring the drive?”
“No.”
“You were supposed to search him.”
“He came too fast.”
Vanessa exhaled sharply.
“You’re useless.”
Pain crossed Martin’s face.
“Where are you?”
“Do what we discussed.”
“Vanessa, I need to know Sophie is safe.”
“She’s fine.”
“Let me hear her.”
“No.”
Martin looked at me.
Doubt appeared for the first time.
“Vanessa, where are you?”
She ended the call.
I lowered my voice.
“She left you.”
“No.”
“She sent you here to kill me or be killed by police.”
“No.”
“Ask yourself why Sophie isn’t here.”
Martin’s gun dipped.
A tactical officer entered through the window behind him.
“Police! Drop the weapon!”
Martin spun.
I grabbed his wrist.
The gun fired into the ceiling.
Officers tackled him.
Dust rained down while they dragged me away from the weapon.
Martin screamed Vanessa’s name as if she might still save him.
Once he was handcuffed, Detective Hill leaned close.
“Where did she take the girl?”
Martin’s face collapsed.
“I don’t know.”
Detective Hill seized his phone.
A message had arrived from Vanessa.
It contained a photograph of Sophie sitting in the back seat of a car.
Behind her, through the window, stood a blue water tower.
Martin recognized it.
“There’s an old airfield near Riverside,” he said. “Vanessa’s friend owns a charter plane.”
Police blocked every road leading to the airfield.
The charter pilot was arrested while preparing the aircraft.
But Vanessa never arrived.
The photograph had been taken forty minutes earlier.
A security camera showed her turning away after seeing a patrol car.
Her vehicle was later found beside a grocery store.
Inside were Sophie’s pink backpack and one of Vanessa’s burner phones.
No Sophie.
I stared at the empty back seat.
“She changed vehicles.”
Detective Hill nodded.
“She may have help.”
“Grant is in jail. Martin is here.”
“Then there’s someone else.”
We searched the burner phone.
Most messages were deleted.
One recent call had lasted three minutes.
The number belonged to my mother.
I hadn’t spoken to my mother in almost a year.
She and Laura had never gotten along. After Laura’s funeral, she accused me of giving Vanessa too much responsibility, then left after I told her to mind her own business.
I called her.
She answered on the first ring.
“Daniel?”
“Is Vanessa with you?”
Silence.
My blood went cold.
“Mom, she took Sophie.”
“I know.”
“Where are they?”
“You need to listen before you start shouting.”
“Put Sophie on the phone.”
“She’s sleeping.”
“Where?”
“At my cabin.”
Detective Hill wrote something and motioned to an officer.
“Send me the address,” I said.
“I can’t let you bring police.”
“You are helping a wanted murderer.”
“Vanessa told me the police are framing her because Grant wants a deal.”
“She killed Laura.”
“Laura was already dying.”
The same phrase Martin used.
Vanessa had turned our mother into another shield.
“Did she tell you what she did to Sophie’s hair?”
“She said Sophie did it herself.”
“She lied.”
“Daniel, Vanessa has always needed you. Laura turned you against your own family.”
“No. Vanessa destroyed our family.”
My mother began crying.
“She says you’re going to put her in prison.”
“She belongs in prison.”
“She’s your sister.”
“And Sophie is my child.”
The line went quiet.
Then I heard a small voice in the background.
“Daddy?”
“Sophie!”
The phone moved.
Vanessa shouted.
My mother screamed.
The call disconnected.
Detective Hill had traced it.
The cabin was beside Lake Warren, nearly an hour away.
State police were closer.
We drove anyway.
Rain began falling hard enough to blur the road.
Halfway there, dispatch reported that officers had reached the cabin.
It was empty.
The back door was open.
My mother lay injured beside the kitchen table.
She told police Vanessa had taken Sophie toward the lake.
The cabin’s motorboat was missing.
Search teams launched onto the water despite the storm.
Lightning split the sky.
I stood at the dock shouting Sophie’s name.
A light appeared through the rain.
The missing boat drifted toward the rocks.
It struck the dock and spun sideways.
No one was steering.
Vanessa was gone.
Sophie lay alone beneath the front seat, wrapped in an orange life jacket.
I jumped into the boat before officers could stop me.
“Sophie!”
Her eyes opened.
“Daddy?”
I gathered her into my arms.
She was cold and shaking, but alive.
“Where is Aunt Vanessa?”
Sophie pointed toward the dark water.
“She saw the police lights. She jumped.”
Divers searched until morning.
They found Vanessa’s coat floating near the eastern shore.
They found one shoe caught in reeds.
They did not find a body.
Everyone wanted to believe she had drowned.
May you like
I knew my sister.
Vanessa never entered a room without finding the exit first.
