What Diane Found
"Where's Diane, Derek?" I kept my eyes on the poker, shuffling sideways toward the fence, buying distance I didn't yet have a plan for.
His smile widened without warming. He glanced toward the pool, toward the shapes suspended beneath the green. "She made a choice, Tom. She always made poor choices. Choosing you first. And then finding my ledgers in the closet three days ago and thinking she could just walk away with what she found."
The pieces slid into place with sickening speed. The bags. The silence from the house. Diane's phone going straight to voicemail for two days.
"You did this," I said, my voice barely holding together.
"She was going to hand it to the DA," Derek said, closer now, almost conversational. "Offshore accounts. Fraud charges building in Chicago. She was going to take Ellie and leave me holding a federal indictment alone. I couldn't let that happen."
Ellie let out a small, stifled sound against my shoulder. "She tried to stop him, Daddy," she whispered. "In the kitchen. Then she stopped talking."
Grief and rage arrived in the same breath, and I didn't have room left for fear. This man had killed my daughter's mother and locked a ten-year-old in a cage while he worked out how to erase the evidence.
Derek raised the poker over his shoulder, his whole posture shifting into something predatory. "No one knows you're back here, Tom. I'll put you in with her, take Ellie, and be over the state line before anyone notices."
He lunged, the iron bar coming down fast toward my skull.