Chapter 11 - The Final Secret
“A secret?” I asked, a cold chill running down my spine. “After six months?”
Gabriel folded the letter, his expression unreadable. “She says it’s about Elena’s grave.”
Lucy stopped petting Buddy. “Mom’s grave? What about it?”
Gabriel didn’t answer her directly. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Go inside, sweetie. Helen and I need to handle this.”
Once Lucy was safely in the house, Gabriel looked at me, his face pale.
“Vanessa claims she overheard Michael talking to Victor years ago,” Gabriel said quietly. “She says the mausoleum… she says Elena isn’t in it.”
“What?” I gasped. “But you buried her.”
“It was a closed casket, Helen. She died in the hospital, and Michael arranged the transport. I was so blinded by grief, I couldn’t even look.”
Gabriel immediately called his lawyers in Chicago, ordering an exhumation. For three agonizing days, we waited on the farm, trying to keep things normal for Lucy.
On Thursday evening, the phone rang. Gabriel answered it in his study. When he came out, he looked like a man who had seen a ghost.
“The casket was full of sandbags,” Gabriel whispered.
My hands flew to my mouth. “Where is she, Gabriel?”
“They don’t know. Michael must have intercepted the body from the hospital. He probably dumped her somewhere to make sure the autopsy wouldn't reveal whatever he did to her.”
Gabriel’s voice broke. “He didn’t just steal my daughter. He stole my wife’s resting place.”
I walked over and wrapped my arms around him. The big, tough man cried onto my shoulder.
“We will find her,” I promised firmly. “Michael is sitting in a federal cell. He has nothing left to bargain with. He will tell us.”
The next morning, Gabriel and I flew to the maximum-security prison in Colorado.
Michael looked terrible. He was pale, thin, and the arrogance had been entirely stripped from his face. He sat behind the thick plexiglass, wearing an orange jumpsuit, staring at his hands.
Gabriel picked up the phone. “Where is she, Michael?”
Michael didn’t look up. “Gabe.”
“Where did you bury my wife?”
Michael finally raised his eyes. They were hollow, empty.
“I didn’t bury her, Gabe,” Michael croaked. “I cremated her.”
Gabriel froze. “What?”
“I knew she had proof against me,” Michael said, his voice devoid of emotion. “I thought she might have hidden it on her body. So I had her cremated under a fake name before the funeral. I kept the ashes.”
“Where are they?” Gabriel demanded, slamming his fist against the glass.
Michael looked at him, a flicker of sad, pathetic remorse in his eyes.
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“At the lake house, Gabe,” Michael whispered. “I scattered them in the water. Right where she loved to fish with Lucy.”
TITLE: The Lake House Goodbye
