Chapter 3 Someone Was Willing to Kill for the Truth
Chapter 3
Someone Was Willing to Kill for the Truth
The mansion disappeared into complete darkness.
For a single heartbeat, nobody moved.
Then chaos erupted.
A crystal wineglass crashed onto the marble floor. Someone screamed from the far end of the dining room. Chairs scraped backward as relatives stumbled into one another.
Eleanor instinctively closed her hand around the flash drive.
Every nerve in her body screamed the same warning.
Protect it.
"Flashlights!" one of the deputies shouted.
The beam from a tactical flashlight cut through the darkness.
Another beam followed.
Then another.
The narrow shafts of white light swept across terrified faces.
Richard was gone.
"So is the husband!" a deputy yelled.
Detective Laura Bennett immediately drew her service weapon.
"Nobody moves!"
The command echoed through the mansion.
Paramedics pulled Eleanor behind the dining table while another deputy stood in front of her.
"Stay down."
The emergency lights outside flashed red and blue through the tall windows, casting ghostlike shadows across the walls.
Then...
A sharp crack echoed from somewhere upstairs.
Not another plate.
A gunshot.
The room froze.
"Gunshot!" someone shouted.
Two deputies rushed toward the grand staircase.
Detective Bennett pointed to another officer.
"Secure Mrs. Hart."
Eleanor barely heard her.
She was staring toward the entrance hall.
Richard suddenly appeared at the top of the sweeping staircase.
His expensive suit was torn.
His breathing was ragged.
His face no longer carried the confidence of a wealthy executive.
Only desperation.
"There!" Claire cried.
"He has something!"
Everyone looked.
Richard wasn't holding a weapon.
He was carrying a black leather document case.
Detective Bennett aimed upward.
"Mr. Ashcroft!"
"Put the case down!"
Instead of obeying...
Richard ran.
He sprinted down the upstairs hallway toward the west wing of the mansion.
"Go!"
Two deputies chased him.
Daniel covered his face with one hand.
"Oh God..."
Vivian whispered.
"He wasn't supposed to do this."
Eleanor looked at her.
"What wasn't he supposed to do?"
Vivian didn't answer.
Her attention remained fixed on the second floor.
A loud crash echoed overhead.
Another.
Furniture breaking.
Someone shouting.
Then—
The sound of glass exploding.
Detective Bennett spoke into her radio.
"Suspect moving through west wing."
"Possible evidence destruction."
"All units respond."
Outside...
Additional patrol cars arrived.
Within seconds, officers surrounded the entire estate.
No vehicle could leave.
No one could disappear into the vineyards.
Eleanor felt someone gently squeeze her shoulder.
It was Claire.
Her hands still trembled.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
Claire couldn't meet her eyes.
"For not helping sooner."
Eleanor studied her face.
"You've known something for years."
Claire nodded.
"But I never knew everything."
"What do you know?"
Claire hesitated.
"I know your father didn't die the way they told you."
The words stole Eleanor's breath.
"My father died from a heart attack."
"That's what everyone believes."
Claire looked toward Vivian before continuing.
"Your father came here the week before he died."
Eleanor frowned.
"No."
"He never told me that."
"He couldn't."
"Why?"
Claire's voice broke.
"Because after that visit..."
"...he was terrified."
Eleanor's heartbeat quickened.
"My father never feared anyone."
"He feared this family."
Before Eleanor could ask another question—
One of the deputies returned from upstairs.
His expression was grim.
"We lost him."
Detective Bennett stared.
"What do you mean you lost him?"
"The west wing connects to the old wine cellar."
"There are underground tunnels."
Vivian slowly closed her eyes.
Of course there were.
The Ashcroft estate had been built in the 1920s during Prohibition.
Hidden passages once used to transport illegal alcohol still stretched beneath the vineyards.
Richard knew every one of them.
Detective Bennett turned sharply.
"Seal every exit."
Another officer hurried in from outside.
"Too late."
Everyone looked.
"We found a black SUV."
"It crashed through the rear vineyard gate."
Richard had escaped.
Daniel collapsed into a chair.
Vivian remained perfectly still.
Only Claire looked relieved.
Eleanor noticed.
"Why are you smiling?"
Claire whispered so quietly only Eleanor could hear.
"Because he left something behind."
"What?"
Claire nodded toward the black leather document case lying near the staircase.
Richard had dropped it while running.
No one had noticed.
Not even the police.
Detective Bennett followed Claire's gaze.
"So that's what he came back for."
She carefully picked up the case.
It was locked.
Heavy.
Much heavier than ordinary paperwork.
One deputy examined the brass lock.
"No key."
Another officer carried in an evidence kit.
"We can open it."
Vivian suddenly stepped forward.
"You don't understand."
Detective Bennett looked at her.
"Understand what?"
"If you open that case..."
"...people much more powerful than this family will come looking for it."
Silence.
The detective narrowed her eyes.
"Powerful how?"
Vivian didn't answer immediately.
Instead...
She looked directly at Eleanor.
"I begged Richard not to involve you."
Eleanor laughed bitterly.
"You expect me to believe that?"
"No."
"I expect you'll hate me for the rest of your life."
Vivian's shoulders sagged.
"But everything changed the day your father found those records."
Detective Bennett spoke firmly.
"What records?"
Vivian whispered only four words.
"The Harbor Point Project."
Nobody reacted.
Except Daniel.
His face drained of all color.
Claire began crying.
And Eleanor realized...
Both of them had heard that name before.
Detective Bennett noticed their expressions immediately.
"What is Harbor Point?"
Daniel slowly stood.
For nearly a minute...
He said nothing.
Then he looked at Eleanor.
"Your father wasn't investigating our family."
"He was investigating an entire network."
"What kind of network?"
Daniel's lips trembled.
"The kind..."
"...that buried innocent people before burying the evidence."
Before anyone could ask another question—
The evidence technician inserted a tool into the document case's lock.
Click.
The lid slowly opened.
Inside...
There were stacks of financial ledgers.
Property deeds.
Old photographs.
And one sealed envelope.
Across the front, written in unmistakable handwriting, were six words that made Eleanor's blood run cold.
If You're Reading This, I'm Already Dead.
May you like
The handwriting belonged to her father.
End of Chapter 3
