Chapter 8 - MARGARET STERLING
Margaret Sterling welcomed police wearing pearls.
She sat in a cream-colored chair beside a fireplace.
At eighty-one, she looked fragile.
She was anything but fragile.
Detective Brooks presented the warrant.
Margaret smiled.
“Search everything.”
William entered behind us.
His mother looked at him.
“You disappoint me.”
“My son was kidnapped.”
“And yet he survived.”
William stared at her.
“Is that supposed to comfort me?”
“You were always emotional.”
Clara entered next.
Margaret’s smile disappeared.
“Hello, Mother.”
For the first time, the old woman looked unsettled.
The blue room was upstairs.
Its walls had been repainted white years earlier.
But beneath the wallpaper, traces of blue remained.
I searched near the fireplace.
My mother had loved hiding important things behind loose molding.
I found one.
Inside was an envelope.
CLAIRE.
My name.
Written by my mother.
My hands shook as I opened it.
Her letter explained why she had never told me about the Sterlings.
She had protected Clara.
Later, she helped Rebecca investigate Charles and Margaret.
When Rebecca died, my mother realized she might be next.
She copied everything.
Bank records.
Audio recordings.
Names.
Dates.
And she hid them where Margaret would never think to look.
The letter ended with one sentence.
The proof is beneath the place where Charles believed he was untouchable.
Clara understood.
“The family chapel.”
Margaret stood abruptly.
“No.”
Every officer in the room turned toward her.
She had revealed too much.
William smiled without humor.
“Thank you, Mother.”
The chapel stood behind the estate.
Beneath the altar, police discovered a metal case.
Inside were decades of records.
Payments.
Threats.
Medical reports.
Photographs.
And one recording labeled REBECCA — LAST NIGHT.
William pressed play.
Rebecca’s voice filled the chapel.
Then Margaret’s.
“You should have stopped digging.”
Rebecca answered.
“If anything happens to me, William will learn everything.”
Margaret laughed.
“No.”
“He’ll believe whatever his mother tells him.”
A door opened in the recording.
Then another voice spoke.
A man’s voice.
William stopped the recording.
He looked as though he had seen a ghost.
“I know that voice.”
Detective Brooks asked the obvious question.
“Who is it?”
May you like
William stared at us.
“My attorney.”
