Chapter 14 - THE CEMETERY AMBUSH
“Run.”
Eleanor did not hesitate.
Claire grabbed the waterproof case.
Ethan pulled her between the headstones.
Men in dark coats spread through the cemetery.
No one shouted.
That made them more frightening.
They moved like professionals.
Eleanor led Claire and Ethan toward an old maintenance building.
“There’s another gate behind the chapel.”
A flashlight swept across them.
“There!”
Ethan shoved Claire behind a stone monument.
A bullet struck marble.
Claire flinched.
Eleanor pulled a small handgun from her purse.
Claire stared at her.
“You brought a gun?”
“I have known Richard Vale for thirty years.”
Eleanor fired once toward a tree.
The men ducked.
“Move!”
They reached the chapel.
Ethan kicked open the side door.
Claire ran through the dark interior.
At the rear entrance, another man appeared.
He grabbed Claire’s coat.
Ethan hit him.
The man fell against a pew.
Claire dropped the case.
It slid across the floor.
A second man picked it up.
Eleanor aimed her gun.
“Put it down.”
The man smiled.
Then a voice came from the chapel entrance.
“You were always terrible at choosing sides, Eleanor.”
Richard Vale walked inside.
He was sixty-eight, silver-haired, calm, and dressed as though he had arrived for a board meeting.
Eleanor kept the gun pointed at him.
“You murdered Jonathan.”
Richard smiled.
“Jonathan murdered himself the moment he decided morality mattered more than power.”
Ethan stepped forward.
“And my mother?”
Richard’s expression barely changed.
“Catherine was unfortunate.”
Ethan lunged.
Claire caught him.
Richard’s men raised their weapons.
“Don’t.”
Claire whispered.
Richard looked at her.
“You have Jonathan’s eyes.”
Claire stared back.
“And you have his company.”
“For now.”
Richard smiled.
“You think a trust document will save you?”
“No.”
Claire glanced toward Eleanor’s coat.
A tiny red light blinked inside the pocket.
Eleanor had activated the recorder.
Claire smiled faintly.
“I think your confession might.”
Richard’s smile vanished.
Then someone behind him said.
“She doesn’t need the recording.”
Everyone turned.
A woman stood at the chapel doors.
Older.
Thin.
Her dark hair streaked with silver.
May you like
Claire stopped breathing.
“Mom?”
