“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Arrested?”
“Not yet. He locked himself inside the archive room with one of his employees.”
“Who?”
“Martin.”
The room became smaller.
Mara continued. “The employee says Richard has a weapon. He also says Richard has poured gasoline through the archive room.”
Daniel swore under his breath.
I looked down at the envelope.
The key pressed into my palm.
“What is he trying to burn?”
“The trust documents,” Mara said. “And whatever else is in there.”
I pushed the blanket aside.
The doctor had told me not to stand without assistance. My legs still felt like they belonged to the ocean, but I got out of bed.
Mara caught my elbow.
“You are not going anywhere.”
“I’m going to the estate.”
“No.”
“He will destroy evidence unless he hears me.”
“Amelia, this is a police operation.”
“Then take me where I can speak to him.”
Mara’s expression hardened.
“You think you can control him because you survived one attempt?”
“No,” I said. “I know I can’t control him. I know exactly what he does when he feels control slipping away.”
That stopped her.
I held up the brass key.
“My mother left this for me. Richard is in the only room where it might matter.”
Mara glanced at the key, then at my medical monitors.
“You remain in the ambulance. You do not enter the house. You do not approach him. You speak through the police system. Understood?”
I nodded.
Daniel helped me into a coat.
The drive to the estate took twenty minutes. Rain struck the ambulance windows, turning the city into a blur of red lights and black streets.
When we arrived, the mansion glowed through the storm.
Police vehicles surrounded the circular drive. Officers moved behind shields near the east wing. Smoke curled from the roofline above the archive room.
Richard’s voice boomed through an external speaker.
“Everyone backs away, or Martin goes into the fire with the documents.”
A man cried out from inside.
Martin.
Mara climbed into the ambulance with a radio.
“Richard, this is Detective Ellis. You have one hostage and multiple crimes already documented. Release Martin and surrender.”
“Put Amelia on.”
Mara looked at me.
I took the radio.
“Richard.”
There was a pause so complete that I could hear rain striking the ambulance roof.
“You came,” he said.
“You knew I would.”
“I knew you couldn’t resist seeing what was yours.”
“Nothing in that house is mine.”
His laugh sounded tired now.
“Your mother’s money built it.”
“My mother’s money built the trust. You built the prison.”
The line crackled.
Behind him, something shattered.
“Do you know what your mother did?” he asked.
“No.”
“She stole from me.”
“She died before we met.”
“She left you a fortune and made me beg for access. I gave you a life.”
