Sibling Rivalry

The passports were the final nail. Argentina. No extradition treaty. Arthur had been planning this escape for months, long before the stroke clipped his wings. He wasn't just hiding evidence; he was preparing to disappear with it.

And he was taking Meredith with him.

Elena stared at the ticket. *Flight 404 to Buenos Aires. Departs 6:00 AM.*

Tomorrow.

Arthur must have known the stroke was coming, or he had hired someone to extract Meredith from whatever hole he'd stuffed her in. But who? The Fixer?

A crunch of gravel from the driveway made her jump. Not the polite crunch of a sedan, but the heavy grind of a truck.

She crawled to the edge of the ramp and peered through the lattice.

A white van had pulled up behind Julian’s SUV. *Vance Construction & Demolition.*

A man got out. He wasn't the locksmith. He was huge, wearing a tool belt that looked more like a weapon harness. He walked up to the back door where Julian was waiting.

"You called for a rush job?" the contractor asked, his voice rough.

"Yeah," Julian said. He looked wired, his eyes darting around the yard. "I need the study floor ripped up. Tonight. And the walls checked for cavities."

"Tonight? It'll cost double."

"I don't care what it costs. Just get it done. Rip it all up."

Julian turned, his gaze sweeping over the yard, over the woods where Elena's car was hidden, over the wheelchair ramp where she was currently shivering in the dirt.

"And check the perimeter," Julian added. "If you see my sister... stop her."

The contractor grunted. He reached into the van and pulled out a sledgehammer.

Elena backed away, deeper into the crawlspace. Julian wasn't just looking for the ledger anymore. He was erasing the house. He was going to destroy the structure itself to find Arthur's secrets.

And if he started ripping up floors...

She looked at the metal box in front of her. The passports. The ticket.

This was Arthur's escape plan. But it was also her map. If she could find out who bought the ticket, who arranged the transport...

She grabbed the passport. She flipped to the back. There was a stamp from a travel agency. *Bluebird Travel.*

The same agency Arthur used for all their family vacations. The ones designed to keep her away from the mailbox.

She needed to get to that agency. She needed to know who picked up the tickets.

But first, she had to get out of the crawlspace without being seen by the man with the sledgehammer.

She heard heavy footsteps on the wooden deck above her head. The contractor was walking up the ramp.

Dust sifted down onto her hair.

"This wood's rotton," the contractor yelled. "Might have to tear this out too."

Elena stopped breathing.

"Do it," Julian shouted back from the doorway. "Rip it all up. Especially in there."