He Pushed His Own Mother Into the Lake… But What Happened Next Was TERRIFYING! 😱💔

Stacey had never believed in loose ends. That was why I knew Dr. Finch was in danger.

The nurse remembered the vehicle: a white service van, the same model that had followed Wren to the pumping station. Eli checked a county traffic camera feed through a publicly accessible road-condition site. At 6:11 p.m., the van passed the turnoff to the abandoned Miller Creek treatment plant.

We called the state-police duty officer and told him exactly where to look. Then we went too, keeping far enough back to avoid another ambush. June came with us, carrying a first-aid kit and a tire iron.

"You could stay behind," I told her.

"So could you," she said. "Yet here we are."

At the plant, we spotted the van behind a loading bay. Eli cut the engine. From inside came a man's muffled pleading.

"Please," he said. "I did what you asked."

Stacey replied, "And now you're going to say you did it alone."

Through a cracked window I saw Finch seated on a folding chair. He looked thin and terrified. Stacey stood beside him with a syringe in her hand.

I thought of Robert, bound on the boat. I thought of the marks the coroner had written off as fishing-hook scratches. My mouth filled with the taste of cold lake water.

"Police are coming," Eli whispered.

"Not soon enough."

I picked up a rock and threw it through a window at the opposite end of the building. Glass exploded. Stacey whipped around. June and Eli opened the loading door while I shouted, "Stacey! Look at me!"

She appeared in the doorway, furious. "You just don't know when to quit."

"I learned from Robert."

"Robert should've quit when he had the chance."

"Then say what you did."

She laughed. "You think you're wearing a wire? Fine. I didn't make your husband a saint. I made him stop asking questions."

Her eyes flicked to June's phone, visible in her pocket. Stacey realized we were recording. She lunged for me, and we collided against a steel table.

The syringe spun across the floor.