The Alliance

I didn't go home. I drove to the nearest hospital. I left Arthur in the ER waiting room, telling the nurse he was my grandfather and that he had wandered off. It was a lie, but it was safer than the truth. Safer than leaving him with me.

Then I drove to the payphone outside the pharmacy. I didn't trust my phone, and I definitely didn't trust the burner.

I dialed Dr. Thorne's number. It was late, but he answered on the second ring.

"Dr. Thorne," I said. "It's Helen Vance."

"Helen? Are you okay? I heard about the fire."

"I'm fine," I lied. "But Arthur isn't. He's at St. Mary's. I need you to go to him."

"I'm on my way," he said immediately. "But Helen... why didn't you call me sooner?"

"I couldn't," I said. "But I need you to do something for me. Something important."

"Anything."

"You examined Arthur last week. The bruises."

"Yes. I documented them."

"I need you to file the report," I said. "Not just in your files. With social services. With the police. Tonight."

"Helen, that's a serious accusation. If I report elder abuse..."

"It's not abuse," I said. "It's evidence. Arthur wasn't hurt by an accident. He was hurt because he knows something."

"Knows what?"

"He knows where the money is," I said. "And he knows who killed Sarah Miller."

Silence on the other end of the line.

"Sarah Miller?" Dr. Thorne asked slowly. "The girl from the river case? Thirty years ago?"

"Yes."

"Helen," he said, his voice dropping. "I was an intern in the ER that night. The night they brought her in."

My grip tightened on the phone. "You saw her?"

"I saw the body," he said. "Or... what was left of it."

"What do you mean?"

"The police report said she drowned. But the autopsy... the one that wasn't released..."

"What did it say?"

"Blunt force trauma," he whispered. "And ligature marks. She was strangled."

I closed my eyes. Julian hadn't just hit her. He had made sure.

"But here's the thing, Helen," Dr. Thorne continued. "The body they brought in... it wasn't Sarah Miller."

I opened my eyes. "What?"

"I knew Sarah. Her mother worked for my family. I saw her grow up. The girl on the table... she had a birthmark on her shoulder. Sarah didn't."

"So the body was... a fake?"

"A Jane Doe," he said. "Someone pulled from the morgue. Someone no one would miss."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because the coroner signed the death certificate before I could even open my mouth. And the next day, Julian Vance drove off a bridge. The town wanted to move on. They didn't want a scandal. They wanted peace."

"There is no peace," I said. "Not for us."

"I know," he said. "That's why I did it."

"Did what?"

"I'm already doing that, Helen. I've reported it to social services. And I sent a copy of the unredacted autopsy report to the DA."

"You... you kept it?"

"For thirty years," he said. "I knew one day someone would ask."

"Thank you," I whispered.

"Be careful, Helen. If they killed once to cover this up..."

"They killed twice," I said. "But they won't kill a third time."

I hung up the phone.

I had the ledger. I had the witness. I had the medical proof.

But I still didn't have my daughter.

I got back into the SUV. I drove toward the river. Toward the bridge where it all began.

But as I drove, I saw something in the rearview mirror.

Headlights.

Not a police car. Not an ambulance.

A black sedan. Old. Beat up.

Richard's car.

He hadn't left.

And he wasn't alone.