Chapter 6 - THE TRAPDetective Ortiz hated my idea.
Daniel hated it more.
Malcolm refused to discuss it for almost an hour.
Bryce simply stared at me and said, “She’ll kill you.”
I looked at him across the library table.
“She already tried.”
“No. You don’t understand her.”
“I understand her perfectly.”
Celeste needed my signature to challenge the trust.
Without it, the estate was unreachable.
With the criminal investigation closing around her, she needed money.
A lot of it.
So we gave her an opportunity.
Daniel arranged for a carefully leaked legal filing suggesting I was willing to negotiate.
The fictional deal was simple.
I would sign away claims to two commercial properties and release five million dollars from disputed accounts.
In return, Celeste would surrender evidence and leave the country.
Illegal?
Not if handled as a law-enforcement operation.
Dangerous?
Absolutely.
The message traveled through Howard Bell, Celeste’s attorney.
Three hours later, she responded.
Not personally.
Through conditions.
No police.
No trackers.
No Malcolm.
No Bryce.
I had to come alone.
Ortiz laughed when she read it.
“Of course.”
Celeste chose an abandoned lakeside resort.
The property had been closed for eight years.
She demanded I bring signed documents at midnight.
Police wired me.
Officers positioned themselves around the property.
Daniel prepared papers that looked legitimate but were legally useless.
At 11:42 p.m., I drove toward the resort.
Rain started again.
Of course it did.
Apparently every terrible moment of my life now required rain.
I parked.
The old lobby doors stood open.
“Celeste?”
Nothing.
I entered.
My heartbeat felt loud enough to expose the microphone beneath my blouse.
Then lights came on.
Celeste stood near the ruined reception desk.
She looked older.
No perfect makeup.
No designer coat.
Her hair was tied back.
But her eyes were unchanged.
Cold.
Calculating.
“Nora.”
“Celeste.”
She smiled faintly.
“You’ve become difficult.”
“You threw me out.”
“I underestimated you.”
“That was your first mistake.”
“Your mother used to talk like that.”
I clenched my jaw.
“Don’t talk about her.”
“She always thought she was smarter than everyone.”
“She was smarter than you.”
The smile vanished.
“Where are the papers?”
I held up the folder.
“Where’s your evidence?”
“First you sign.”
“Already signed.”
“Let me see.”
I placed the folder on a table.
She approached.
Then stopped.
“Take off your coat.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“Because I’m not stupid.”
Police were listening.
I removed the coat.
“Lift your shirt.”
I froze.
Celeste smiled.
“Microphone?”
I laughed softly.
“You think I’d come here wearing a wire?”
“Yes.”
She approached.
Too close.
I resisted stepping back.
She searched my waist.
The microphone was concealed in a necklace clasp instead.
She found nothing.
“Phone.”
I handed her a decoy.
She smashed it beneath her heel.
“You always did enjoy breaking things that weren’t yours.”
Her eyes flashed.
“I gave you a home.”
“My mother owned the home.”
That struck.
Celeste slapped me.
Hard.
Pain exploded across my cheek.
Every instinct told me to hit her back.
I didn’t.
She needed to talk.
“You spoiled little idiot.”
“There she is.”
“What?”
“The real Celeste.”
She grabbed the documents.
Her hands trembled slightly while reading.
“Five million.”
“You wanted five.”
“And Harbor Street.”
“You’re not getting Harbor Street.”
“That building should have been mine.”
“It never was.”
She looked up.
“Your grandfather hated me.”
“My grandfather was apparently an excellent judge of character.”
Her face twisted.
Then a voice came from behind me.
“Enough.”
I turned.
A man stepped from the shadows.
Gavin Rusk.
He held a gun.
My heart stopped.
This wasn’t part of the plan.
Police believed Rusk and Celeste were separated.
Apparently they had reconciled.
Or pretended to.
Rusk aimed at me.
“Is she wired?”
“No,” Celeste said.
“Check again.”
He did.
This time, his hand moved toward my necklace.
I stepped back.
He grabbed it.
The chain snapped.
The microphone hit the floor.
Silence.
Rusk looked at Celeste.
“You brought police.”
Her face went white.
“I didn’t.”
He raised the gun toward me.
Outside, Ortiz shouted through a loudspeaker.
“Gavin Rusk! Put the weapon down!”
Rusk grabbed me and pulled me against him.
Celeste backed away.
“You said she wasn’t wired!”
“I checked her!”
Sirens surrounded the resort.
Rusk dragged me toward a side door.
Celeste ran the other direction.
Then a shot exploded.
I screamed.
The bullet hit the ceiling.
Police entered.
Rusk shoved me aside and fled.
I hit the floor.
Officers chased him.
Ortiz reached me.
“You hit?”
“No.”
“Stay down.”
But I saw Celeste slipping through a service corridor.
“Celeste!”
She turned.
Our eyes met.
Then she disappeared.
I got up.
Ortiz cursed.
“Nora!”
I ran.
Not smart.
I know.
But rage can make intelligence feel optional.
I followed Celeste into the old hotel kitchen.
She pushed through another door.
Outside.
Rain.
Again.
She ran toward the lake.
Police lights flashed through trees.
I chased her down a slippery path.
She reached the dock.
Dead end.
Celeste turned.
Breathing hard.
“You ruined everything.”
I stopped several yards away.
“You killed my parents.”
“I didn’t pull the trigger.”
“But you ordered it.”
Her expression changed.
Not denial.
Something uglier.
“They weren’t supposed to die.”
I stared.
“You paid someone to stop them permanently.”
“I wanted them frightened!”
“Your email said permanently.”
Her face went still.
She realized she’d said too much.
Then she smiled.
“You still don’t know who shot them.”
“Tell me.”
“Why?”
“Because maybe it buys you something.”
“I don’t need anything from you.”
“You came here for five million dollars.”
That landed.
She laughed bitterly.
“Your mother stole my life.”
“My mother didn’t steal anything.”
“Richard loved her.”
There it was.
Not money.
Not entirely.
Jealousy had poisoned everything.
“He married you.”
“But he never stopped loving her.”
Celeste’s voice cracked.
“I spent six years competing with a woman he had supposedly divorced.”
“So you decided she should die?”
“I said I didn’t kill her!”
“Who did?”
She stared past me.
Then suddenly smiled.
“You want to know?”
“Yes.”
“Ask Malcolm.”
My blood froze.
“What?”
“Ask your loyal Malcolm where he was that night.”
Before I could answer, she stepped backward.
The dock board snapped.
Celeste fell into the lake.
I lunged.
She surfaced screaming.
The water was freezing.
For half a second, I thought about everything she had done.
The ashes.
The slap.
My parents.
Then I dropped to my knees and reached for her.
“Grab my hand!”
She stared at me in disbelief.
“Grab it!”
She did.
Police arrived and helped pull her out.
They handcuffed her on the dock.
Celeste shivered violently beneath a blanket.
As officers led her away, she looked at me.
“You really are Evelyn’s daughter.”
I didn’t respond.
Rusk was captured fifteen minutes later after injuring his ankle in the woods.
The operation was over.
Celeste was arrested.
Rusk was arrested.
I should have felt relief.
Instead, I drove home with one sentence repeating in my mind.
Ask Malcolm where he was that night.
At Whitmore House, Malcolm waited in the foyer.
He looked relieved to see me.
“Nora.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
His smile disappeared.
I asked the question.
May you like
“Where were you the night my parents were killed?”
And Malcolm went completely silent.
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