Chapter 7 - MICHAEL LANE
Michael Lane had vanished after the fire investigation stalled.
No charges.
No arrest.
No proof.
Just suspicion.
Detective Hale spent the afternoon pulling records.
By evening, the story was worse.
Michael’s first wife, Carol, had carried a substantial life insurance policy.
After her death, Michael received almost $600,000.
Her eight-year-old son died with her.
“Accidental fire?” I asked.
Hale shook his head.
“Officially undetermined.”
“And Vanessa?”
“No connection on paper.”
“But she knows him.”
“Clearly.”
“What was her real name?”
“We’re trying to establish that.”
My life suddenly felt like a house with fake walls.
Every fact I trusted had another fact hidden behind it.
At the hotel, Noah sat on the bed watching cartoons without really watching them.
I ordered pizza.
He ate half a slice.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Is Vanessa going to jail?”
“If the police find her.”
“What if they don’t?”
“They will.”
I wanted to believe it.
His eyes stayed on the television.
“Is she going to come back?”
“No.”
I said it fast.
Too fast.
Noah looked at me.
“You don’t know.”
He was right.
I sat beside him.
“No, I don’t know.”
He leaned against me.
“But I’m going to do everything I can to keep you safe.”
There was a knock at the door.
Three sharp taps.
I froze.
Hale had given me instructions.
Nobody visits without calling first.
I moved Noah behind me.
Another knock.
“Room service.”
I hadn’t ordered room service.
I reached for my phone.
The handle moved.
Someone was trying the door.
“Noah, bathroom.”
He ran.
I dialed Hale.
The door shook.
Once.
Twice.
Then a heavy crash.
The security latch bent.
I grabbed the desk chair.
Another hit.
The latch ripped halfway from the frame.
Then shouting erupted in the hall.
“POLICE! HANDS!”
Footsteps.
A crash.
Someone screamed.
I opened the door only after Hale yelled my name.
A man lay facedown on the carpet.
Not Michael.
Younger.
Maybe thirty.
Hale searched his pockets.
No wallet.
No identification.
But he had a key card to our room.
And a syringe.
I stared at it.
“What’s in that?”
“We’ll test it.”
The man on the floor smiled at me.
Actually smiled.
“You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”
I stepped toward him.
Hale blocked me.
“Who sent you?”
The man laughed.
Then his eyes moved toward the hotel room.
Toward Noah.
“Michael said the kid was the problem.”
My blood went cold.
May you like
The man’s smile widened.
“But Vanessa said the father had to go first.”
