Chapter 8 - The Mill That Should Have Stayed Closed
Gregory survived the injection.
But he slipped into a coma before he could reveal Thomas Mason’s location.
Detective Chen placed officers outside his room.
Clara no longer believed doors or guards could protect anyone.
At midnight, she returned to the estate.
The ballroom was empty.
White roses lay crushed beneath abandoned chairs.
Her wedding cake stood untouched.
The top tier had tilted to one side.
It looked like a monument to something already dead.
Mr. Bell approached her.
“You should rest.”
“I have rested for twenty years while other people controlled the truth.”
She looked toward the dark windows.
“I am going to the textile mill.”
Mr. Bell shook his head.
“The caller demanded that you come alone.”
“I am not following their rules.”
Andrew stepped from the shadows.
“Then take me.”
Clara turned.
“I told security not to let you inside.”
“I still have the old family access code.”
Mr. Bell immediately entered something into his tablet.
“You do not anymore.”
Andrew ignored him.
“My father died in that mill.”
“Your mother may have imprisoned mine.”
“This is not about our relationship.”
Clara’s eyes sharpened.
“There is no relationship.”
“I know.”
His answer was quiet.
“I am asking you to let me help uncover what my family did.”
Clara wanted to refuse.
Then she noticed the folder in his hand.
“What is that?”
“My father’s personal records.”
He opened it.
Inside was an old map of the textile mill.
A section beneath the main dye room had been circled.
“He gave this to me before the fire.”
“I was eighteen.”
“He told me never to show my mother.”
“Why did you keep it?”
“I forgot about it.”
Clara almost turned away.
Andrew stopped her with his next words.
“There is a tunnel beneath the mill.”
Detective Chen arrived ten minutes later.
She was furious.
“You are not going inside without police.”
Clara looked at the old map.
“If Patricia sees officers, she may kill my father.”
“If he is there.”
“He is there.”
Clara did not know how she knew.
But she felt it.
They drove to the mill in separate vehicles.
The abandoned building stood against the river like a burned skeleton.
Broken windows stared over the empty road.
Clara, Andrew, and Detective Chen entered through a loading door.
Two tactical officers remained behind them.
The air smelled of rust and wet ash.
Andrew pointed toward a collapsed staircase.
“The dye room is below.”
They descended into darkness.
At the bottom, Clara heard a sound.
A chain moving.
She raised her flashlight.
A man sat behind a steel gate.
His hair was gray.
His body was thin.
A scar ran from his temple to his jaw.
But Clara recognized his eyes.
The same blue-gray eyes she saw every morning in the mirror.
“Dad?”
The man slowly stood.
His face crumpled.
“Clara.”
She ran toward the gate.
Her hands closed around the steel bars.
He reached through and touched her face.
“You are alive.”
“So are you.”
A sob broke from her chest.
For one second, the years disappeared.
Then Thomas looked behind her.
He saw Andrew.
His expression changed to terror.
“Get away from him.”
Clara turned.
Andrew froze.
Thomas pointed toward him.
“He was here the night they brought me.”
Andrew shook his head.
“I was eighteen.”
“I do not remember this.”
“You stood beside your mother.”
Thomas gripped the bars.
“You watched her lock that gate.”
Clara stared at Andrew.
His breathing became uneven.
“No.”
“I was never here.”
A voice came through the darkness.
“Yes, you were.”
Patricia stepped onto the metal walkway above them.
She held a pistol in one hand.
The original estate deed was in the other.
Ethan Shaw stood beside her.
His shirt was stained with blood.
May you like
Patricia smiled down at Clara.
“My son simply forgot.”
