Chapter 10 - Blood Against Blood
Henry didn't answer with words. He took another step forward.
"Don't come closer!" Clara screamed, pulling the hammer of the revolver back. The loud *click* echoed like a gunshot in the confined space. "I swear to God, Father, I will pull this trigger!"
"Then pull it," Henry said softly. His eyes were devoid of fear. There was only an infinite, bottomless grief. "Shoot me, Clara. But you will have to look Ethan in the eye tomorrow morning and explain why his grandfather didn't come back from the garden."
Clara’s lower lip trembled. Her finger tightened on the trigger.
Henry took another step. He was three feet away now.
"Eleanor loved you," Henry whispered. "She forgave you before she closed her eyes. That's why she left the letter for me, not the police. She was giving you a chance to run."
A sob tore out of Clara’s throat. The barrel of the gun wavered, dipping toward the water. "I didn't want to do it... James said it was the only way..."
Henry closed the distance, his hands moving quickly, not with violence, but with the firm authority of a father. He wrapped his fingers around the cylinder of the revolver, wrenching it upward, away from them both.
Clara didn't fight back. She collapsed forward into his chest, weeping uncontrollably, her fingers clutching his soaked wool coat.
Henry took the gun, slipped it into his deep pocket, and held his daughter as she sobbed in the dark beneath the estate. But he didn't wrap his arms around her to comfort her. His posture remained rigid, cold, like the concrete wall that sealed Julian's remains behind them.
"It's over, Clara," Henry said into the darkness. "All of it. The lies. The money. The name. We are going back upstairs, and you are going to call the state troopers yourself."
Clara pulled back slightly, her face streaked with tears and dirt, looking up at him with terror. "Father, please... they'll take Ethan away from me."
"Ethan will be safe with me," Henry said coldly. "Now move."
He guided her toward the ladder. Clara climbed first, her movements sluggish, weighed down by the crushing reality of what she had confessed. Henry followed right behind her, his flashlight illuminating the rusted rungs.
When they reached the top and stepped back into the rainy conservatory, Thomas Miller was gone. The mud where he had fallen was washed clean by the torrential downpour.
And through the driving rain, coming from the main house, Henry saw the bright, flashing blue and red lights reflecting off the manor's towering windows.
May you like
The police were already here.
***
