PART 10

We entered through the back.

The house smelled like dust and wood.

I remembered playing here with Emily when we were children.

We had hidden treasures beneath the floorboards.

I looked at the brass key.

“This is for something here.”

Mr. Foster nodded.

We searched the old bedrooms.

Nothing.

The kitchen.

Nothing.

The attic.

Nothing.

Then Noah walked toward the fireplace.

He pointed at a brick.

“That one.”

I touched it.

It moved.

Behind it was a small metal box.

The brass key fit perfectly.

Inside was a stack of documents.

Photographs.

Bank records.

Names.

Dates.

And one letter.

I unfolded it.

It was from Daniel.

Emily,

If you are reading this, they know about Noah.

The evidence proves who ordered the operation, but it also proves something worse.

The person at the top isn’t outside the system.

They’re inside it.

There was another page.

A list of names.

One name was circled.

I stared at it.

Then my heart stopped.

The person at the top wasn’t Mark.

It wasn’t Mr. Foster.

It wasn’t anyone I’d expected.

It was the name of a senior official whose position gave him access to every investigation connected to Daniel’s death.

I looked at Mr. Foster.

“We have to get this to someone outside the local system.”

He nodded.

“There’s one person.”

“Who?”

“Daniel’s former supervisor.”

“Where?”

“Washington.”

Before we could leave, headlights appeared outside.

Several vehicles.

Mr. Foster looked through the window.

“They found us.”

Doors slammed.

Men surrounded the lake house.

Then someone knocked.

Three slow knocks.

Noah whispered:

“That’s Daddy.”

Mark’s voice came through the door.

“Sarah.”

I held the evidence against my chest.

“Open the door.”

I didn’t answer.

“You know this ends tonight.”

Mr. Foster looked at me.

“There’s a boat.”

I shook my head.

“They’ll see us.”

“Not if we use the old fishing tunnel.”

“The what?”

He pointed beneath the dock.

“There used to be a tunnel from the boathouse to the opposite shore.”

We ran.

The back door opened.

We sprinted toward the lake.

Behind us, the front door exploded inward.

“GO!”

We climbed into the old boat.

Mr. Foster started the engine.

Bullets struck the water behind us.

Tyler screamed.

I pulled both boys down.

The boat crossed the lake.

For several terrifying minutes, I thought we wouldn’t make it.

Then we reached the opposite shore.

Mr. Foster jumped out.

“Run!”

We reached the trees.

Then headlights appeared.

But this time they weren’t Mark’s.

Two black SUVs stopped on the road.

Men stepped out.

They weren’t local police.

They wore federal badges.

A woman in a dark coat approached.

“Sarah Harris?”

“Yes.”

She showed me her identification.

“My name is Agent Collins.”

She looked at Noah.

“Is that Daniel Reynolds’s son?”

I nodded.

She took a deep breath.

“Then we’ve been looking for you.”

I handed her the evidence.

“You’re going to need this.”

CONTINUE FOR NEXT PART….