Chapter 8
The event hall smelled like dust and old wood.
I entered alone.
At least that was what Diane was supposed to believe.
A wire rested beneath my blouse.
Police were positioned outside.
My father was three blocks away in a command vehicle because detectives had refused to let him come closer.
He had not liked that.
I had.
For once, somebody could tell Michael Bennett no.
“Diane?”
My voice echoed.
A light came on near the old stage.
Rosa sat in a chair.
Her hands were tied.
Her mouth was covered with tape.
She saw me and began shaking her head violently.
I took one step toward her.
Diane appeared from behind the curtain.
“Stop.”
She held a handgun.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
I stopped.
Diane smiled.
She looked nothing like the elegant woman from my wedding.
Her hair was messy.
Her clothes were wrinkled.
Her eyes looked exhausted and bright at the same time.
“Take your jacket off.”
I did.
“Turn around.”
I turned.
She checked for obvious weapons.
The wire remained hidden.
“Phone.”
I handed it over.
She threw it across the room.
“You really came.”
“You have Rosa.”
Rosa made a desperate sound beneath the tape.
Diane looked at her.
“She has always been loyal to your father.”
“She has nothing to do with this.”
“Everyone has something to do with this.”
“That’s what people say when they need excuses.”
Her smile vanished.
“You sound like your mother.”
“Good.”
The gun lifted slightly.
“Careful.”
I stared at her.
“You hated her.”
“I loved her once.”
That surprised me.
Diane walked slowly across the dusty floor.
“We were friends before Michael noticed her.”
“Then you betrayed her.”
“She betrayed me first.”
“How?”
“She took everything.”
“My father was never yours.”
Diane’s face twisted.
“You don’t know anything.”
“I know he barely remembered you.”
That was cruel.
I meant it to be.
She stepped closer.
For one second, I thought she might shoot me.
Instead she slapped me.
My head snapped sideways.
Rosa cried out.
I tasted blood where my tooth cut my lip.
Diane smiled.
“Now you look less like a princess.”
I forced myself not to touch my face.
“Did that make you feel powerful?”
She hit me again.
Harder.
I stumbled.
“You have no idea what power feels like.”
“I think I do.”
She frowned.
“Power is having a gun.”
“No.”
I looked directly at her.
“Power is knowing you need me alive.”
Her expression changed.
Good.
I was right.
“If you wanted me dead, you would have shot me when I walked in.”
Diane tilted her head.
“Smart.”
“What do you want?”
“Your signature.”
She pulled documents from a table.
I almost laughed.
“Still the trust?”
“Not just the trust.”
“What else?”
“A statement.”
“About my father?”
She smiled.
“You’re going to tell the world Michael Bennett ordered Stephen’s death.”
“He didn’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know you did.”
For the first time, real fear crossed her face.
Tiny.
Fast.
But I saw it.
“Raymond told me.”
She laughed.
“Raymond lies.”
“So do you.”
“Raymond killed your mother.”
“Did he?”
Her eyes sharpened.
I continued.
“He says you gave him her route.”
Silence.
“He says you took a picture of her car.”
“Raymond says many things.”
“Did you sabotage it?”
Diane’s hand tightened around the gun.
The police were listening.
I needed her to keep talking.
“Jason said Mom wrote you a letter.”
She stared at me.
“You turned my son against me.”
“Jason turned against you when you had him beaten.”
“I taught him loyalty.”
“You taught him fear.”
“He was weak.”
“He became violent.”
“That was his choice.”
The words hit me.
Even Diane knew it.
I remembered Jason admitting the same thing.
No mother.
No criminal.
No threat.
Nothing changed the fact that he had chosen to swing that cane.
I looked at Rosa.
“We are leaving.”
Diane laughed.
“You think you’re in charge?”
“No.”
I pointed to the papers.
“But if you need my signature, you can’t shoot me.”
“I can shoot Rosa.”
Rosa’s eyes widened.
My stomach turned.
Diane pointed the gun toward her.
“Sign.”
I approached the table.
The document was already open.
I picked up the pen.
Diane relaxed slightly.
That was when Rosa kicked the metal chair beside her.
It crashed across the floor.
Diane turned instinctively.
I slammed the pen into her gun hand.
She screamed.
The gun fired.
The shot exploded through the hall.
Wood shattered above us.
I grabbed Diane’s wrist.
She hit me with her other hand.
We fell against the table.
Rosa kicked again.
The chair toppled.
Diane clawed at my hair.
I held her wrist with both hands.
The gun pointed toward the ceiling.
“Let go!”
“No!”
She slammed my shoulder into the floor.
Pain shot through my bruised arm.
The gun moved toward me.
Then the doors burst open.
“POLICE! DROP THE WEAPON!”
Diane froze.
Red dots appeared across her chest.
She looked down.
Then at me.
For one terrifying second, I thought she would pull the trigger anyway.
I whispered, “It’s over.”
Her eyes filled with hate.
“No.”
She turned the gun toward Rosa.
I shoved her wrist upward.
Another shot hit the ceiling.
Officers rushed us.
Diane was pinned to the floor.
The weapon slid away.
I crawled toward Rosa.
An officer cut her hands free.
She tore the tape from her mouth.
“Emily!”
We held each other.
I started shaking so badly I couldn’t stand.
Police pulled Diane upright.
She laughed.
Actually laughed.
“You think this proves anything?”
The detective held up my discarded phone.
“No.”
Then he pointed toward my blouse.
“But the wire does.”
Diane stopped laughing.
Every word had been recorded.
Her threats.
The trust.
The forced statement.
Her comments about Raymond.
Stephen.
Jason.
Everything.
Dad arrived ten minutes later.
Nobody had invited him.
Of course he came anyway.
He saw the blood on my lip.
Then the torn sleeve.
Then Diane in handcuffs.
His face became terrifyingly calm.
Diane smiled at him.
“Michael.”
He moved toward her.
Three officers stepped between them.
I grabbed his arm.
“Dad.”
He stopped.
Diane laughed.
“Still letting women control you?”
My father stared at her.
“You killed Laura.”
Diane’s smile disappeared.
“Prove it.”
The detective said, “We intend to.”
She looked at me.
“You think you won?”
“I survived you.”
“That isn’t winning.”
“It’s enough.”
Police took her outside.
Rosa was checked by paramedics.
Her injuries were minor.
Mine were too.
The gunshots had hit nobody.
For a few hours, that felt like a miracle.
Then the detective approached me.
“We found something in Diane’s bag.”
“What?”
“A key.”
“To what?”
“We don’t know.”
Dad looked at it.
Small brass key.
A number stamped on one side.
217.
Thomas, who had arrived with Dad, stared at it.
“That looks like a bank deposit key.”
The detective nodded.
“We thought so too.”
Rebecca joined us.
“Can you determine the bank?”
“We’re working on it.”
Diane shouted from the police car.
“Emily!”
Everyone turned.
She pressed her face toward the open window.
“You want your mother?”
My chest tightened.
“She’s in box 217.”
Dad took one step forward.
The detective stopped him.
Diane smiled at me.
Then she said something I didn’t understand until the next morning.
“Ask Michael why he never found the body.”
The police car door slammed.
I looked at Dad.
He was completely white.
“What does she mean?”
He did not answer.
“Dad?”
He stared after the car.
May you like
Then whispered the sentence that made the entire world disappear beneath me.
“Your mother’s coffin was empty.”
