THE GHOSTS OF HER MOTHER'S HOUSE

""Let go of me!"" Chloe wrenched her arm backward, ducking beneath Susan’s grip. She kicked out blindly, her heavy boot striking Susan's shin.

Susan let out a sharp hiss of pain, stumbling sideways into Eleanor's easel. The heavy wooden frame collapsed with a violent crash, sending decades of dust and canvas scraps billowing into the air. The distraction was all Chloe needed. She dropped to her knees, her fingers frantically sweeping across the floorboards until they touched the cold metal of the flash drive. She shoved the tiny brass key into her front pocket and scrambled behind a stack of wardrobe trunks just as the stairwell door flew off its hinges.

Arthur stood framed in the doorway, his silhouette backlit by the yellow hall lights below. His suit jacket was off, discarded somewhere on the stairs. In his right hand, gleaming dully in the dim light, was the small silver revolver Eleanor had kept in her nightstand for home defense.

""Arthur, put that down!"" Susan backed away toward the arched window, raising the tire iron defensively across her chest. ""Are you out of your mind? You bring a gun into your own daughter's presence?""

Arthur’s eyes were wild, darting between Susan and the dark corners of the attic where Chloe was hiding behind the trunks. He was breathing heavily, sweat glistening across his forehead. ""You came back. I told you to leave the valley, Susan. I transferred the five hundred thousand to your off-shore account twenty minutes ago. Why the hell are you in my attic?""

Susan laughed, a shrill, hysterical sound that grated against the rafters. ""Five hundred thousand? For murder, Arthur? You think half a million buys my silence when you're sitting on a thirty-million-dollar estate that belonged entirely to Eleanor's family trust? You changed the will while she was sick. You forced her signature when she couldn't even hold a pen!""

Chloe pressed her back against the cedar trunk, her hand clamped tightly over her mouth to silence her sobs. Every word was an arrow through the memory of her family. Her father—the man who had carried her on his shoulders, who had taught her how to ride a bike, who had held her as she cried at Eleanor's funeral—was a monster. A calculated, cold-blooded killer.

""You signed the witness papers, Susan!"" Arthur yelled, raising the gun until it was aimed directly at Susan’s chest. ""You are just as guilty as I am! If I go down for this, you're going to prison for the rest of your pathetic life!""

""The difference is, Arthur,"" Susan said, taking a slow step toward the window ledge, ""I made copies of the real trust documents. Eleanor gave them to her estate attorney in the city before she left the house that night. And Chloe has the decryption key.""

Arthur froze. His gaze slowly pivoted away from Susan, his dark eyes locking directly onto the cedar trunks where Chloe was crouched in the dark.

""Chloe,"" Arthur’s voice shifted, instantly adopting a terrifyingly soft, paternal cadence that made Chloe's skin crawl. ""Sweetheart. Come out from behind there. Daddy isn't mad at you. Just hand me the key your mother left, and we can make all of this go away.""