Chapter 4 - The Escape in the Rain
The ride back to the Vance estate was suffocating. Rain lashed against the tinted windows of the Maybach, mirroring the storm raging inside Eleanor’s mind. Richard sat beside her, holding her hand, his thumb tracing soothing circles over her knuckles. Every touch made her skin crawl, but she played her part perfectly, resting her head against the window, pretending to sleep.
She had secretly texted Thomas, her fiercely loyal, elderly chauffeur who had driven for her family since she was a little girl. Find the boy at the side exit. Hide him in your quarters. Trust no one.
When they arrived at the sprawling, gothic mansion, Richard carefully lifted her out of the car and placed her into her customized indoor chair.
"Get some rest, darling," Richard said smoothly, kissing her forehead. "I have some... security matters to attend to regarding tonight's little breach. I'll be in my study."
As soon as Richard's footsteps faded down the east wing corridor, Eleanor's demeanor shifted. The fragile victim vanished. She gripped the wheels of her chair and pushed herself toward the servant's quarters.
She found Thomas in his small living room. Leo was sitting on a plaid sofa, wrapped in a warm blanket, drinking hot cocoa. Thomas stood up abruptly as Eleanor wheeled in, locking the door behind her.
"Miss Eleanor," Thomas gasped, looking at her legs. "The staff group chat is going crazy. They say you stood."
"I did, Thomas," Eleanor said, looking the old man in the eye. "And I'm about to do a lot more than that. But I need your help, and it involves risking your life. If you want to walk away, do it now."
Thomas looked at the boy, then back to Eleanor. He straightened his back. "I drove your father, Miss Eleanor. I drove you. I ain't going nowhere."
"Good." Eleanor stood up. The pain was excruciating, like needles driving into her joints, but the fire of vengeance burned hotter. "Richard cut the brakes on my car five years ago. He murdered Sarah. And now, we are going to destroy him."
Thomas turned pale, but he nodded slowly. "What do you need?"
"Keys to the old Chevy truck you keep out back. And a distraction."
Ten minutes later, the fire alarm in the west wing began to blare. Smoke billowed from a trashcan Thomas had set ablaze. As Richard and the security team sprinted toward the smoke, Eleanor, wrapped in a dark trench coat, hobbled out the back door into the pouring rain, leaning heavily on Thomas and Leo.
They reached the rusty, inconspicuous pickup truck hidden behind the hedges. Thomas helped Eleanor into the passenger seat and hoisted Leo into the middle.
"Be careful, Miss," Thomas whispered, handing her a loaded revolver from his glovebox. "He won't let you go easy."
"I'm counting on it," Eleanor said.
May you like
She turned the key. The old V8 engine roared to life. Eleanor slammed her foot onto the gas pedal—her previously paralyzed foot. It ached, but it pressed the metal to the floor. The truck tore out of the driveway, splashing through the mud, disappearing into the dark, rain-soaked night.
They were headed to the boathouse. They were headed for the truth.
