Chapter 16 - The Hole
“Get inside!” Evelyn screamed.
Cole looked toward the house.
Then ran.
Not away.
Toward the far garden.
Wren bolted after him.
“Wren!”
Evelyn’s heart nearly stopped.
She ran barefoot across the wet grass.
Cole disappeared behind the greenhouse.
By the time Evelyn reached it, nobody was there.
“Wren!”
No answer.
She called 911.
“My daughter is outside with a man police are investigating. Cole Barrett. He’s on my property. He has a shovel.”
The dispatcher kept her on the line.
Evelyn searched the orchard.
Nothing.
Then she heard metal strike stone.
North garden.
She ran.
Cole stood beside the old retaining wall.
A fresh hole yawned near the roots.
Wren was twenty feet away.
In her hands was a small black metal box.
Cole stared at it.
“Give me that.”
Wren backed away.
“No.”
“Wren.”
His voice was almost gentle.
“That belongs to your father’s company.”
“You’re a liar.”
“Your mother has poisoned you against me.”
“She believes me now.”
Something moved in Cole’s face.
The sentence hurt him.
Not emotionally.
Strategically.
He had depended on disbelief.
Evelyn stayed partly hidden behind the hedge.
She could rush him.
But Wren stood too close.
The dispatcher whispered through Evelyn’s phone.
“Officers are en route.”
Cole extended one hand.
“Give me the box.”
Wren shook her head.
“What’s inside?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“You opened it.”
“No.”
“The key.”
Cole looked at the brass key hanging against her shirt.
“Your father should never have involved you.”
For once Evelyn agreed with him.
But there was something uglier in his tone.
Cole stepped forward.
Wren stepped back.
“Stay away.”
“I’m trying to help your mother.”
“You killed Dad.”
Cole stopped.
“Who told you that?”
“Nobody.”
“Then you’re making things up again.”
“No.”
His old tactic.
Again.
“You see?” he said. “This is what you do. You hear half of something. You invent the rest. Then adults suffer.”
Wren’s eyes filled.
Evelyn almost moved.
Then Cole said:
“Your mother lost her house because of you.”
Wren flinched.
“She didn’t lose it.”
“She will.”
“You’re lying.”
“Your father lied. Your mother lies. Your grandmother lies. Everybody lies when they’re afraid.”
He took another step.
“Give me the box and this stops.”
Wren looked down at it.
For one dangerous second, Evelyn saw her daughter consider surrendering.
Then Wren hugged the box against her chest.
“No.”
Cole’s mask fell away.
He grabbed for it.
Wren twisted.
The box dropped.
Its lid burst open.
Inside was a plastic sleeve.
Documents.
And a small pharmacy receipt.
Cole went white.
He lunged.
Wren screamed and ran toward the maple garden.
Cole caught the back of her sweater.
She slipped free.
Evelyn charged from behind the hedge.
“GET AWAY FROM HER!”
Cole spun.
Wren darted behind a pile of loose soil.
The open hole lay beside her.
Cole grabbed the shovel with both hands.
Evelyn was still twenty yards away.
“Cole!”
He looked from Evelyn to Wren.
The child crouched beside the hole.
He raised the shovel.
May you like
Wren screamed the only word that mattered.
“MOM!”
