Chapter 6 - A Bride Who Wasn't Dead
"It's a trap," Ethan said.
"Obviously," Mara replied. "But it tells us Olivia's alive—or someone wants us to think so."
They drove to the boathouse anyway, stopping two blocks short. Lily slept in the back seat while Mara used the van's battered binoculars. The lake looked black as oil; a single light burned in the boathouse office.
Ethan wanted to run straight inside. Mara caught his sleeve. "The people who sent that text know you're angry. They expect stupid."
"That's my wife."
"Then give her a husband who survives the night."
They left Lily with Mrs. Alvarez, a retired clinic nurse Mara trusted, in a lit diner near the highway. Ethan made Lily promise not to open the door for anyone. Lily handed him the pink ribbon from her key.
"For luck," she said.
At the boathouse, Ethan found Olivia's veil snagged on a nail. Inside was a wheelchair, a portable IV stand, and a streak of fresh blood on the floor. He heard a faint groan behind a storage wall.
"Olivia?"
A woman spoke through the boards. "Ethan, don't come closer."
He tore the panel loose. Olivia sat bound to a chair, her gown stained and her updo falling apart. A bruise darkened her cheek. She was alive. He crossed the room and held her face.
"I thought I'd lost you."
"You almost did." She swallowed. "Mara saved me."
He looked at the maid standing in the doorway. An apology formed, but there was no time. Beneath Olivia's chair, a red light began blinking.
"Pressure switch," Olivia whispered. "They told me if I stood up, it would go off."
Mara crouched, looked once at the device, and went pale.
"Ethan, get out."
"Not without her."
Olivia gripped his hand. "I didn't marry you to watch you die."
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Mara saw a remote receiver fixed to the beam above them. A voice crackled through a speaker.
"You have sixty seconds," said Charles Whitmore. "Bring me my granddaughter.
