Chapter 12 - THE SECRET BENEATH THE FLOORBOARDS
"What do you mean she's dead?" Mark shouted into the receiver, pacing the study floor as his mind raced in wild circles. "I’m holding a letter in my hand right now signed by her!"
"It was mailed before she died," Vance replied, the sound of sirens blaring faintly in the background of his call. "An apparent sudden heart failure during morning lockdown. But Mark... the prison doctor noticed faint chemical burns around her fingernails. Someone poisoned her inside a maximum-security solitary facility."
Thirty minutes later, Detective Vance’s unmarked police cruiser screeched to a halt in Mark’s driveway. The detective slammed his car door and rushed into the study, his face dark with sweat and exhaustion. Without a word, Mark handed him the faded photograph of Clara and the crimson letter.
Vance stared at the photo, his eyes widening in pure disbelief. "This is impossible... Clara’s case file was sealed by the state medical board four years ago. I had no jurisdiction over it."
"She says you buried the autopsy report, Vance!" Mark demanded, grabbing the detective by his lapels. "Did you know my wife didn't die of cancer? Answer me!"
"I swear on my life, Mark, I knew nothing about Clara's autopsy!" Vance insisted, raising his hands. "When Clara passed away, your family doctor signed off on stage-four leukemia. No autopsy was performed because there was no suspicion of foul play! But if Evelyn was telling the truth..."
"We have to go to the old house," Mark snapped, taking his car keys from the hook. "Room 302. Clara’s old art studio."
Leaving two armed private guards with Sophie and her nanny, Mark and Vance drove at breakneck speeds through the pouring rain back to the abandoned Sterling manor—the house Mark had locked up after Evelyn’s arrest.
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The dark manor smelled of dust and damp wood. They climbed the grand staircase to the third floor, stopping outside Room 302. Mark grabbed a heavy iron crowbar from the hallway toolkit and shoved it beneath the ancient oak floorboards in the corner of the studio.
With a sickening CRACK, the rotten wood gave way. Hidden in the dark insulation below lay a heavy, steel-reinforced military safe wrapped in plastic.
