Edward asked, making his way toward the kitchen. “For money?”
“Not killed,” Robert corrected, his voice closer now. “No, just persuaded. Mercer was supposed to scare you into signing the papers. Things got out of hand.”
“Out of hand?” Edward repeated incredulously, raising his voice as he continued to circle the dining table. “You left me to die in the trunk of an abandoned car.”
In the dim emergency lighting, he caught a glimpse of Robert’s silhouette—his once trusted friend and business partner, now a desperate man backed into a corner by his own actions. The transformation was jarring.
“You weren’t supposed to be hurt,” Robert insisted, his voice strained. “Just convinced that the company’s future was at stake. A bigger future.”
“And now your future includes a prison cell,” Edward countered, moving toward the kitchen. He knew the landline there had a separate power source from the main house; if he could reach it, he might be able to call for help.
Robert’s laugh had a bitter edge. “You think I’m going to prison? No, Ed. I’m leaving the country tonight, arrangements have been made. But first, I need those recordings Mercer claims he gave to the police.”
“I don’t have them,” Edward said truthfully, nearing the kitchen doorway. “The police do.”
“I don’t believe you,” Robert snapped, his composure cracking. “You always kept backups of everything. You have copies. I need them, and I need you to call the DA and recant your statement.”
The absurdity of the demand would have been laughable under other circumstances. “That’s not going to happen, Robert. It’s over. The best thing you can do now is turn yourself in. Your sentence will be lighter if you cooperate.”
“Always so righteous,” Robert sneered, moving suddenly around the table toward Edward’s voice. “Always thinking you know what’s best for everyone.”
Edward ducked into the kitchen, fumbling in the dark for the landline. His fingers closed around the receiver just as Robert stepped into the room.
“Put it down, Ed,” Robert commanded, his voice deadly quiet. “I didn’t want it to come to this, but you’re not leaving me any choice.”
The dim emergency light revealed what Edward had feared. Robert was holding a handgun, and it was pointed directly at his former friend.
“Think about what you’re doing,” Edward said calmly, setting the receiver down. “The kidnapping was bad enough, don’t add to the charges.”
“There won’t be any charges if there isn’t a witness,” Robert replied, gesturing with the gun for Edward to move away from the phone. “I’ve lost everything because of your stubbornness. My reputation, my future, my freedom. I have nothing left to lose.”
Edward slowly raised his hands, his mind racing for a way to de-escalate the situation. “That’s not true, Robert. You still have a choice. This doesn’t have to end in more violence.”
As Robert opened his mouth to respond, the unmistakable sound of a child’s voice came from the hallway. “Ed? Are you okay?” Lily’s voice, high and frightened, cut through the tense standoff.
Both men froze, Robert’s expression shifting from resolve to confusion. “Who is that? I thought you lived alone.”
Before Edward could respond, Lily appeared in the kitchen doorway, her small figure silhouetted against the emergency lighting. She was clutching Cosmo the bear in one hand, her wide eyes taking in the scene before her: Edward with his hands raised, Robert pointing a gun.
“Lily, go back to Martha!” Edward commanded, fear for her safety overriding everything else. “Now!”
But Lily remained in the doorway, her gaze fixed not on Edward, but on Robert. “I remember you,” she said suddenly, her voice small but clear. “You came to our house for my birthday. You brought me the telescope.”
Robert’s hand wavered slightly. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about, kid.”
“Emma,” Edward corrected automatically, his protective instincts on high alert. “Her name is Emma. My daughter.”
“Your daughter is dead,” Robert sneered, though a note of uncertainty had crept into his voice. “She drowned two years ago, everyone knows that.”
Lily—or Emma, as she was now fully reclaiming her identity—stepped further into the kitchen, seemingly oblivious to the danger. “You made the cake shaped like the solar system,” she continued, her gaze locked on Robert’s face. “And you told me the story about when you and my dad were in college together. You said he always wanted to save the world, and you always wanted to own it.”
Robert’s expression shifted from confusion to disbelief. The resemblance was unmistakable, especially in the set of the jaw and the distinctive scar near her temple. “It’s impossible,” he whispered, the gun lowering slightly. “You can’t be Emma.”
“But I am,” she replied with simple, childhood certainty. “I got out of the car when it went in the river. The water carried me away. I forgot who I was until I found Dad at the salvage yard.”
The story, condensed into those few sentences, sounded like the miracle Edward realized it truly was. Martha appeared behind Emma, her face a mask of fear. “Come away, child,” she urged, reaching for the girl’s arm. “Come back with me now.”
“It’s okay, Grandma Martha,” Emma said calmly. “He won’t hurt us. He’s my dad’s friend. He’s just scared.”
The innocent assessment struck something in Robert. His arm dropped completely, the fight visibly draining out of him. He stared at the child with an expression of dawning horror, as if only now fully realizing the magnitude of his actions and their potential consequences. “Emma,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “It really is you.”
Before she could respond, the wail of police sirens cut through the night, approaching rapidly. A moment later, flashing lights illuminated the windows overlooking the lake as patrol cars surrounded the house.
“Looks like Mrs. Winters made it out and called the cops,” Edward said, relief washing over him. “It’s over, Robert.”
Robert didn’t seem to hear; his focus was still on Emma. “I never wanted anyone to get hurt,” he said, almost to himself. “I just wanted what I thought I deserved.”
“And now you’ll face the consequences,” Edward replied, not unkindly. “Put the gun down before the police come in. Don’t make this any worse than it already is.”
For a tense moment, it looked as if Robert might resist. Then, with a defeated gesture, he placed the weapon on the kitchen island and sank into a chair, his head in his hands.
Within minutes, the house was swarming with police. Detective Brennan personally handcuffed Robert while officers checked the rest of the property.
“Are you all okay?”
