Chapter 5 - MARK’S FIRST LIE
Mark was taken to the police station in a separate car.
Diane demanded a lawyer.
I was transported to the hospital.
Owen rode behind the ambulance.
At the emergency room, Dr. Melissa Grant examined my ribs, arms, neck, and face.
Two ribs were cracked.
My left wrist had an old fracture that healed badly.
There were puncture scars near my shoulder blades.
I had always believed they came from broken mattress springs.
Dr. Grant did not.
“These marks are consistent with repeated injections.”
My mouth went dry.
“I would remember someone injecting me.”
“Not necessarily, depending on the drug.”
She ordered toxicology screening.
While we waited, Owen showed me the recovered texts between Mark and Diane.
Most were coded.
Dinner meant medication.
Sewing meant restraint.
Guest room meant the hidden basement.
One message from Mark read:
SHE FOUND THE PROPERTY TRANSFERS. DINNER TOMORROW.
Diane replied:
THEN SEW HER BEFORE SHE TALKS.
I remembered the needle.
The fake hospital chart.
The bolted chair.
“What property transfers?” Owen asked.
I told him what I found.
Three years earlier, after my grandmother died, I inherited a small apartment building and a lake cabin.
Mark handled the paperwork because I was grieving.
He said taxes forced us to sell both.
But the deeds on the memory card showed the properties transferred to a company called Blue Thread Holdings.
Its registered owner was Diane.
The properties were worth almost three million dollars.
Owen leaned back.
“So they stole your inheritance.”
“And planned to make me disappear.”
“Possibly more than you.”
He showed me bank records connected to Rebecca and Laura.
Both women had received inheritances shortly before vanishing.
Both had rented from Diane.
Both signed property transfers to Blue Thread Holdings.
Their signatures looked similar.
Too similar.
One handwriting expert could likely prove they were forged by the same person.
Dr. Grant returned with my blood results.
A sedative called midazolam was present at a low level.
I had not taken it.
“There’s more,” she said.
She handed me a pregnancy test.
Positive.
I stared at it.
“That can’t be right.”
Mark and I had stopped trying years ago.
Diane told him children would complicate our finances.
My period had become irregular from stress.
Dr. Grant ordered an ultrasound.
The screen showed a pregnancy estimated at nearly ten weeks.
A heartbeat pulsed rapidly.
I began crying.
Not only from joy.
From terror.
Had they known?
Owen checked the recovered messages again.
He found one from Diane dated five days earlier.
THE CHILD CHANGES NOTHING. REMOVE BOTH PROBLEMS.
My whole body went cold.
Mark knew I was pregnant before I did.
He still helped his mother prepare the basement.
Then Owen’s phone rang.
He listened for several seconds.
His expression hardened.
“What?”
He ended the call.
“Mark escaped during transport.”
“How?”
“The patrol car was struck at an intersection.”
“By who?”
May you like
Owen looked toward the hospital doorway.
“A vehicle registered to Dr. Samuel Price.”
