Meanwhile, Frank’s team tracked down the men who had been hired months earlier to “take care of a situation” at the edge of town. Faced with the possibility of serious prison time, they were more than willing to talk. Their statements, given under recording, painted a picture of money changing hands, of orders passed down through intermediaries, of a fire started to “erase an inconvenience.”
We collected everything. Documents. Audio. Video from hidden cameras I hadn’t even realized were still active in parts of the old lake house. On one of the recordings, Vanessa’s voice floated through the speakers, light and almost cheerful as she clinked a glass against Colby’s.
“First part done,” she said. “Now we just have to let Marcus crumble.”
The final piece was legal.
I trusted very few people at that point, but my attorney, Richard Davenport, had been with my family long enough to see patterns that made him uneasy. When he met us in the safe apartment and saw Chloe standing there, very much alive, he went pale and had to sit down.
Once he read the lab reports and listened to the recordings, his expression changed from disbelief to something sharp and steady.