Chapter 8 - THE CABIN
The lake cabin had belonged to my grandmother for forty years.
I spent childhood summers there.
Diane told me it was sold after the funeral.
It had never been sold.
Blue Thread Holdings owned it.
Police arrived with excavation teams and cadaver dogs.
The first dog alerted beneath an old rose garden behind the house.
The second alerted near the boathouse.
By sunset, investigators had recovered human remains.
One set belonged to Laura Kent.
The other remained unidentified.
Rebecca had survived only because Price refused to increase her sedative dose after she stopped breathing during an earlier treatment.
Diane moved her to the private facility instead.
Laura had not been so fortunate.
The quilting needle found in my dining room contained Laura’s blood.
Diane had preserved it for seven years.
A trophy.
A threat.
Perhaps both.
Owen asked why she would bring it out that night.
I remembered Diane opening the sewing tin before dinner.
She ran her fingers across the needles and said some stains never came out.
I thought she was talking about fabric.
“She wanted me to know,” I said.
“Know what?”
“That she had done it before.”
Investigators searched the cabin.
Inside a locked upstairs room, they found walls covered with photographs of women.
Laura.
Rebecca.
Me.
Nine others.
Each image was connected by dates, property values, and handwritten notes.
Diane had tracked potential targets through probate notices.
Women inheriting homes.
Widows receiving insurance.
Divorced women with settlements.
She found isolated victims, offered housing or family support, then slowly dismantled their credibility.
Mark helped choose the married targets.
Price created diagnoses.
Reeves controlled the courts.
The second body beneath the roses belonged to another woman from the wall.
Sarah Nolan.
She had vanished ten years earlier.
Owen discovered a newer photograph near the center of the display.
My younger sister, Claire.
Claire lived in Seattle.
We had not spoken in eight months because Diane told her I accused her of stealing.
I called immediately.
No answer.
Then I found the note beneath Claire’s picture.
NEXT AFTER THE BABY.
Diane knew I was pregnant.
She intended to take my child.
Then she planned to target my sister.
Owen contacted Seattle police.
Claire’s apartment was empty.
Her car remained in the parking garage.
Her phone last pinged near the airport.
Security footage showed her boarding a flight to our city the previous afternoon.
Someone had sent her a message claiming I had attempted suicide.
The message came from my number.
Mark had my old phone.
Claire arrived believing she was coming to save me.
Instead, she walked directly into their trap.
Police traced a rental car taken from the airport.
It had been found outside Price’s clinic.
The clinic had already been searched.
But Rebecca told Owen about another room.
A soundproof room hidden behind the laundry wall.
Officers tore through the paneling.
Inside, they found Claire’s suitcase.
Her coat.
Her phone.
And blood on the floor.
No Claire.
Then Diane finally requested an interview.
May you like
She would reveal Claire’s location under one condition.
I had to speak with her alone.
