Chapter 14 - Victor's Lie
I turned toward Victor.
He did not move.
Ethan stepped between us.
"Say something."
Victor's face looked twenty years older.
"I was at Linda's house that night."
The room went silent.
My voice came out thin.
"You told me you hadn't seen her for months."
"I lied."
"Why?"
"Because she asked me to."
Rage came fast.
"She's dead, Victor. Stop making her responsible for your lies."
He flinched.
Good.
I needed him to.
He sat down.
"Linda called me after midnight. She said she had copied the Northstar records. She believed someone was following her."
"So you went over."
"Yes."
"Then what?"
"We argued."
"About what?"
"Going public."
My laugh was bitter.
"She wanted to and you didn't?"
"The evidence wasn't complete."
"There it is."
Victor looked at me.
"I wanted one more day."
"And she died."
"Yes."
Ethan asked, "Did you push her?"
Victor stood.
"No."
"Then who did?"
Victor's jaw tightened.
"Martin Keene."
I stared.
"You saw him?"
"He entered through the back door."
"Then why didn't you tell police?"
"Because I chased him."
I couldn't understand.
"You left my mother alone?"
"I thought she was alive."
His voice cracked for the first time.
"When I came back, she was at the bottom of the stairs."
My anger became something colder.
"You still didn't tell police."
"Martin had taken the drive. I believed the case was gone."
"So you protected yourself."
"Yes."
Finally.
A clean answer.
He continued.
"And I have hated myself for it every day since."
I wanted to scream.
Instead I whispered, "You don't get points for hating yourself."
"No."
That answer saved me from saying something worse.
An agent entered.
"We found Keene."
Everyone stood.
"Where?"
"Canada border."
"Alive?"
"Yes."
"Talking?"
The agent looked at me.
"He says Victor is lying."
Of course he did.
Then the agent placed a photo on the table.
Taken from Martin's phone.
My mother at the top of her stairs.
Margaret beside her.
Victor near the front door.
Three people.
Timestamp: 1:42 a.m.
My mother fell at 1:47.
Five missing minutes.
The agent said, "Martin claims he never went inside."
Victor shouted, "That's a lie."
The agent held up a hand.
"Maybe."
Then he placed a second image down.
A doorbell camera frame from a neighbor.
Martin's car drove away at 1:39.
Three minutes before the photo inside the house.
Victor stared.
"That's impossible."
I looked at the first photograph again.
"Who took this?"
No one answered.
Then Ethan zoomed in.
In the mirror behind my mother was a reflection.
A fourth person.
Tall.
Male.
Standing at the top of the stairs.
My heart stopped.
The face was partially visible.
But Margaret had already told us who else had been there.
Daniel Cole.
Ethan's father.
May you like
The man who was supposed to be dead.
And he was standing behind my mother five minutes before she fell.
