Chapter 3 - The Lie on the Terrace
Ethan slipped his jacket beneath Claire's head while Maya counted the seconds between her breaths.
“Stay with me,” he said. “The ambulance is coming.”
Sloane stood behind him, looking appropriately horrified now. “It was an accident, Ethan. The wheelchair started rolling. I couldn't reach it.”
Maya got to her feet. Water streamed from her apron. “That's a lie.”
Sloane looked at her like she'd spoken out of turn. “Excuse me?”
“I watched you push her.”
Ethan's head snapped around. “What?”
“You heard me.” Maya pointed at Sloane. “She had both hands on the handles. She shoved the chair straight into the pool.”
Sloane pressed a hand to her chest. “She's confused. She came outside after it happened.”
“Then how did I see you standing there smiling?”
A muscle jumped in Sloane's cheek. Ethan rose slowly. He was taller than her by almost a foot, but when he spoke his voice was quiet.
“Tell me she's wrong.”
“She is.”
“Look at me and say it.”
“I didn't push your wife.”
Claire caught Ethan's wrist. “Ethan. The blue folder.”
He leaned down. “Forget the folder.”
“Don't let her get it.”
Sirens rose from the road below. Maya saw Sloane glance toward the house, calculating how much time she had. A security guard in a black suit appeared at the doors, phone against his ear.
“Felix,” Ethan barked. “Lock the property down. Pull every camera. Nobody deletes a second.”
“Of course, sir,” Felix Ward said. “But the patio cameras are offline. They went down this afternoon.”
Maya watched Sloane's expression settle. The surprise had vanished from her face.
The paramedics hurried onto the terrace. As they lifted Claire onto a stretcher, Ethan moved to follow. Sloane caught his arm.
“Think carefully,” she whispered. “About how much you really want the police to see.”
Ethan stopped cold.
May you like
Sloane tilted her phone toward him. On its screen was a bank transfer bearing his electronic signature. The amount read $18,400,000.
“If I go down,” she said, “you go with me.”
