Chapter 8 - Sarah Vale Came Back Through the Front Door

Marcus did not go to the Bell house.

He turned the car toward home.

Police were called.

Federal agents too.

Sarah had already contacted them before coming to the estate.

Edward did not know that.

Marcus did.

By the time we reached the gates, black vehicles were arriving from both directions.

Edward had locked himself inside Marcus's study.

With Sarah.

Marcus walked toward the house.

An agent stopped him.

"Mr. Vale."

Marcus kept moving.

"He's in my house."

"He has a hostage."

"She is my mother."

"That is exactly why you stay here."

Marcus looked at the second-floor windows.

Then at me.

"Nina."

"Yes?"

"Is there another way into the study?"

I knew every service corridor in the estate.

But I shook my head.

"Not one he won't hear."

Marcus nodded.

For once, he listened.

Inside the house, Edward called his phone.

Marcus answered.

"Where is the key?"

Marcus said:

"Safe."

Edward laughed.

"Nothing is safe."

Marcus looked at Henry.

Henry held up the silver key.

Marcus replied:

"Sarah told me everything."

"No."

Edward's voice sharpened.

"Sarah told you her version."

From somewhere behind him, Sarah shouted:

"Ask him about the oxygen valve."

Marcus frowned.

Edward said:

"Quiet."

Sarah repeated:

"Ask him."

Marcus looked at Henry.

"What oxygen valve?"

Henry went pale.

"The hospital."

Marcus's eyes narrowed.

Sarah shouted again:

"The night of the fire."

Edward ended the call.

Henry whispered:

"Oh God."

Marcus grabbed his arm.

"What?"

Henry stared at the house.

"Sarah was taken to St. Vincent's burn unit."

"Yes."

"Edward's company maintained the private wing."

Marcus froze.

Henry continued:

"There was an equipment failure that night."

Sarah had survived the fire.

But someone had tried to make sure she did not survive the hospital.

Marcus looked toward the study.

Edward had not only burned the house.

He had tried again.

Agents moved into position.

Adriana stepped from the car.

Marcus turned.

"Stay back."

She shook her head.

"I know how he thinks."

"That does not make you safe."

"It makes me useful."

She called her grandfather.

Edward answered.

"Adriana."

Her voice shook.

"I have the papers."

Marcus stared at her.

Edward said:

"Where?"

"With me."

"Bring them inside."

"No."

Silence.

Adriana continued:

"You come to the front door."

Edward laughed.

"You think you're brave now?"

"No."

She looked at Marcus.

"I'm just finished being afraid of you."

Edward hung up.

Two minutes later, the study curtain moved.

Then Sarah appeared at the upstairs window.

Alive.

She raised one hand.

Three fingers.

Then two.

Then one.

Henry whispered:

"Countdown?"

I understood first.

"Fire alarm."

Marcus looked at me.

Sarah had seen the old red alarm pull beside the study door.

One.

Then the house alarm screamed.

Sprinklers activated in the upper hall.

Emergency doors released automatically.

Agents moved.

A side window opened.

Sarah climbed onto a small balcony.

Marcus shouted her name.

An agent reached her from the adjoining room.

Edward tried to leave through the corridor.

He did not get far.

No dramatic fight.

No final speech.

Just four federal agents.

Handcuffs.

Wet hair.

An old man in an expensive suit.

For the first time that night, Edward Bell looked small.

Marcus walked toward him.

An agent tried to stop him.

Sarah said:

"Let him."

Marcus stopped three feet away.

Edward looked at him.

"You think your father was better than me?"

Marcus answered:

"No."

Edward smiled slightly.

Marcus continued:

"He admitted what he was."

The smile disappeared.

Sarah came downstairs.

Marcus turned.

For a moment, neither moved.

Twenty-one years.

Then Sarah walked toward him.

The scar on her neck was visible.

So were the burn marks near one wrist.

Marcus looked at her face.

She touched his cheek.

"You have his eyes."

Marcus swallowed.

Then he hugged her.

Not like a mafia boss.

Not like a man everyone feared.

Like an eleven-year-old boy who had waited too long.

Sarah held him.

Adriana looked away.

Henry wiped his eyes.

I did too.

Behind us, Edward said:

"This changes nothing."

Sarah released Marcus.

Then looked at Edward.

She reached inside her coat.

Removed a small recorder.

Pressed play.

Edward's own voice filled the foyer.

Recorded twenty-one years earlier.

"I don't care if Sarah lives through the fire. She cannot live long enough to testify."

Edward went white.

The recording continued.

A younger Daniel Vale answered:

"If you touch her, I go to the police."

Edward's voice:

"You won't."

Daniel:

"Try me."

Then:

A crash.

Shouting.

The tape ended.

Sarah looked at Marcus.

"That was the last conversation your father recorded before he helped me disappear."

Marcus stared at Edward.

No questions left about the fire.

But one remained.

Marcus looked at Sarah.

"Did Dad ever try to come home?"

Sarah closed her eyes.

Then nodded.

"Yes."

Marcus whispered:

"When?"

"Three days before he died."

Marcus stopped breathing.

Sarah continued:

"He bought a ticket here."

"Why didn't he come?"

She looked at him.

"Because I asked him not to."

Marcus stared.

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Sarah began to cry.

And the room became silent again.