Chapter 4 - The Red Box
Evelyn pushed against the grate until her palms burned. It refused to budge. Daniel floated against her back, struggling to stay above the water in the cramped passage.
"Left hinge," he said. "I fixed it myself in '98. Never finished the job."
She found the hinge with numb fingers. One bolt moved. The second had rusted through. Evelyn wedged the brass key beneath it and twisted. Metal shrieked. The hinge gave, and the gate swung just wide enough.
They emerged inside the old boathouse, where the air smelled of gasoline and damp rope. Evelyn hauled Daniel onto a low ramp. He coughed up lake water, curled on his side, and breathed.
She wanted to fall beside him. Instead she listened. The engine outside had stopped. Somebody was approaching across the gravel.
"Why would Grant do this?" she asked.
Daniel stared at the key in her fist. "Because we're selling the property. Because the money won't go to him."
"We haven't signed anything."
"I signed a revised trust yesterday. He found out."
A shadow passed the frosted window. Evelyn wheeled around, searching for a weapon. A broken oar lay beside the wall. She took it and raised it with both shaking hands.
The door burst open. A teenage boy in a fishing vest froze at the sight of two soaked old people on the floor.
"Holy crap," he said. "Are you okay?"
"We need the police," Evelyn said. "And an ambulance. Right now."
"I'm Owen. I was fishing across the cove. I saw—" He swallowed. "I saw a guy shove a wheelchair."
Evelyn could have kissed him. "Can you call?"
"Already did. My phone works up on the hill."
Daniel touched her wrist. "The red box is at the house. In my workshop, behind the clock. Don't let Grant get there first."
Owen looked over his shoulder. "There's an SUV coming down the trail."
Evelyn peered through the cracked window. A familiar gray vehicle stopped by the trees. Grant stepped out carrying a long black bag.
May you like
"That's our son," she said.
Owen stared at the bag. "Then why does he have a shovel?"
