Chapter 13 - Going Back
"We are not going back," Marcus said.
Elena watched the ultrasound photo curl black on the phone screen.
"Yes, we are."
"That's exactly what she wants."
"She wants the tapes. Which means the tapes can hurt her."
Owen agreed to make copies and deliver the originals to a federal investigator he trusted through an old corporate fraud case. Mara sent the toxicology results to the same investigator.
The plan was simple enough to be dangerous: Elena and Marcus would return with empty cassette cases. Police would stay outside the estate boundary until they had evidence of immediate threat. Victoria's lawyers had turned the property into a legal fortress.
Before they left, Elena looked at Marcus.
"One rule."
"Name it."
"If I say I see something, you don't tell me it's real or fake. You ask what evidence we have."
He nodded. "Evidence first."
They reached Blackwood Estate after dark.
Every downstairs light was on.
Victoria waited in the dining room.
Crimson velvet. Pearls. Bare hands.
Elena stopped at the threshold.
Her brain screamed that the room was wrong. The chandelier flickered. Blood seemed to seep between the marble tiles.
She squeezed Marcus's fingers.
"Evidence?" he whispered.
Elena looked again.
No blood.
"No blood," she said.
Victoria smiled. "Good girl."
Marcus's hand tightened.
"Don't call her that."
Victoria poured tea into three blue cups.
"I assume you brought what belongs to me."
"The tapes don't belong to you," Elena said.
"Everything in this house belongs to someone because I decided it would."
"That's your sickness, Victoria. Not mine."
The smile faded.
Elena placed the empty tape box on the table.
Victoria opened it.
Her face became still.
"Where are they?"
"Safe."
A lock clicked behind them.
Then another.
Steel shutters began sliding over the windows.
Marcus reached for his phone.
No signal.
Victoria lifted her teacup.
"You came here to prove I'm a monster," she said. "I brought you here to prove something much more useful."
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From the ceiling speakers came Elena's own voice, screaming:
"Marcus, get away from me! I'll kill you!
