Chapter 9 - The Shot
I reached Lily before she hit the floor.
Blood covered the side of her dress.
For one second, my entire world narrowed to that color.
Then she opened her eyes.
“I’m okay.”
The bullet had grazed her shoulder.
Richard crawled toward the gun.
Grant kicked it away.
Mason threw the fuel can into the flames.
Fire erupted across the aisle.
He vanished through a rear door.
Grant handcuffed Richard while I lifted Lily.
Richard screamed at her.
“You ungrateful little liar!”
“You destroyed me!”
Lily looked at him through smoke and tears.
“No.”
“I finally stopped protecting you.”
The ceiling groaned.
We ran.
Firefighters met us in the tunnel.
They carried Lily outside.
Paramedics treated the graze.
Richard was dragged into the plaza in handcuffs.
Cameras surrounded him.
Guests from the Easter party had already begun talking to reporters.
Some claimed they had seen everything.
Others claimed they had suspected abuse for months.
Cowards always found courage after the danger passed.
Margaret stood near an ambulance.
She watched her son being placed in a patrol car.
He stared back at her.
Neither spoke.
Their perfect family had collapsed in public.
But Mason was still free.
Rachel approached me.
“The courthouse records are gone.”
“Not all of them,” I said.
She looked confused.
“Government archives keep off-site copies.”
“Unless Richard paid someone to destroy those too.”
Grant joined us.
“He did.”
He held up a recovered page.
“The ledger lists payments to the records contractor.”
Rachel’s face fell.
“Then we have nothing to verify the building case.”
“We have the ledger.”
“Defense attorneys will call it fabricated.”
“We have the photos.”
“They’ll say they were staged.”
“We have Lily.”
Rachel looked toward my daughter.
“She can prove abuse.”
“Not murder.”
She was right.
Richard’s lawyers would separate the crimes.
He might go to prison for assault.
But the deaths tied to his buildings could disappear behind reasonable doubt.
Grant’s radio crackled.
A deputy reported that Mason had stolen a fire department vehicle.
He had abandoned it near the river.
No sign of him.
I looked at the blackened courthouse windows.
Mason had risked everything to destroy records.
That meant something else still existed.
Something more dangerous than the ledger.
I turned to Rachel.
“You copied Richard’s files.”
“Yes.”
“Did you copy everything?”
“I think so.”
“Think harder.”
She closed her eyes.
“Emails.”
“Payments.”
“Inspection reports.”
“Videos.”
“What videos?”
Her face changed.
“There was one folder I couldn’t open.”
“What was it called?”
“Resurrection.”
The word felt wrong.
Too deliberate.
“Who created it?”
“I don’t know.”
“It appeared on the server every Easter.”
Grant stared at her.
“Every Easter?”
“For six years.”
“What happened on those dates?”
Rachel shook her head.
“I never found out.”
Lily spoke from behind us.
“I know.”
We turned.
She sat on the ambulance step with her shoulder bandaged.
“Richard disappeared every Easter night.”
“He told me it was a charity meeting.”
“Where did he go?”
She looked toward the river.
“To the old Saint Mercy Hospital.”
The building had been abandoned for twelve years.
Grant’s face tightened.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“Because last year I followed him.”
“What did you see?”
Lily’s lips trembled.
“Women.”
“Families.”
“People giving him envelopes.”
May you like
“And a little boy who called Richard ‘Dad.’”
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