Chapter 38 - The House on the Lake
The fog from Lake Macatawa hung low over the manicured lawns, wrapping the towering white pillars of the Vance estate in a ghostly shroud. By four in the morning, the mansion was dark, save for the single amber coach light flickering beside the heavy oak front door.
The gravel crunching beneath the tires was the only sound as Agent Miller’s cruiser, followed immediately by Ellis’s truck, rolled to a stop at the foot of the circular driveway. Two additional state patrol cars fanned out across the south lawn, their headlights cutting through the mist, illuminating the front porch.
The massive front door was standing wide open.
A trail of dark, river-mud footprints led up the white marble steps, across the polished threshold, and disappeared into the shadowed expanse of the grand foyer.
"Troopers, perimeter sweep!" Miller barked into his collar mic, his service weapon drawn and held low. "Nobody enters the rear until we have eyes on the second floor!"
Ellis reached into the tool rack behind the bench seat of his truck and pulled out a heavy steel tire iron, his knuckles white against the metal.
"Ellis, no," I pleaded, catching his sleeve. "Let the police go in."
"He struck you in front of three hundred people, Abigail," Ellis said, his breathing shallow, his jaw set like stone. "He left me bleeding on Highway 31. And he took your mother’s life in this house. I'm not waiting on the porch while he burns it down."
"Then we go together," I said, stepping out into the cold morning air, my mud-stained wedding gown trailing behind me like a battle flag.
We moved up the marble steps behind Agent Miller and two tactical officers. The entrance hall was freezing; the autumn wind blew through the open doorway, fluttering the linen curtains in the dining room where my wedding reception had ended in violence only twelve hours before.
May you like
On the polished hardwood floor of the gallery, the trail of wet mud was thick, mingled with dark drops of fresh blood. Raymond was bleeding heavily from his fall, dragging his left leg as he moved toward the rear wing.
Toward the master study.
