PART 9: JANICE’S FIRST WORDS

Nobody moved.

The kitchen seemed to shrink around us.

The doorbell rang again.

Three short chimes.

Then Janice spoke through the glass.

“Marguerite, I know you’re home.”

Her voice was exactly as I remembered.

Warm.

Patient.

The kind of voice people trusted before they realized they shouldn’t.

Dale stood so abruptly his chair tipped backward.

“Don’t answer it.”

I looked at him.

“You seem awfully frightened of a woman you haven’t seen in twenty-eight years.”

“You don’t understand.”

“No,” I said quietly.

“I don’t.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m opening the door.”

I reached for the handle.

Dale grabbed my wrist.

“Please.”

It was the first time he had ever said that word to me.

Please.

Not because he was worried about me.

Because he was terrified of her.

Linda stepped between us.

“Take your hand off Mrs. Ellis.”

Dale let go immediately.

I unlocked the door.

Janice Holloway smiled as if she had been invited for coffee.

She wore a cream-colored jacket despite the summer heat.

Her silver hair was neatly styled.

In one hand she carried a thick manila envelope.

In the other, a box of lemon cookies.

“For lunch,” she said pleasantly.

No one accepted them.

Her eyes moved slowly around the kitchen.

She recognized Colleen first.

“My goodness.”

“It’s been years.”

Colleen didn’t answer.

Then Janice looked at Dale.

“I told you not to panic.”

He stared at the floor.

Finally, her eyes settled on me.

“You must be Marguerite.”

“I’ve wanted to meet you properly.”

“I wish I could say the same.”

She smiled again.

“I imagine you have questions.”

“I have plenty.”

“Good.”

She set the envelope on the table without asking permission.

“Because I brought answers.”

Paula finally found her voice.

“Who are you?”

Janice looked at her kindly.

“I’m the woman your husband should have told you about twenty years ago.”

Paula turned toward Dale.

He still hadn’t looked up.

Linda crossed her arms.

“You’ve admitted to participating in fraudulent filings.”

Janice laughed softly.

“No.”

“I admitted nothing.”

“I simply came to correct a misunderstanding.”

“What misunderstanding?” Linda asked.

Janice tapped the envelope.

“The misunderstanding that Dale is the villain.”

Every person in the room stared at her.

She opened the envelope and removed several documents.

Some were old.

Some looked brand new.

She slid one across to me.

It was a photocopy of a handwritten letter.

At the bottom…

I recognized my late husband’s signature.

My heart stopped.

Harold’s handwriting.

The same looping letters I’d seen on birthday cards for forty-eight years.

My hands began to shake.

“No…”

I whispered.

“That’s impossible.”

Janice’s expression softened.

“It isn’t.”

Linda picked up the letter.

Her eyes narrowed as she read.

“This can’t be right.”

“What?” I asked.

She looked from the letter to me.

“Mrs. Ellis…”

“This letter was written six months before your husband died.”

“So?”

“It says he asked someone to protect you.”

I frowned.

“Protect me from what?”

Linda swallowed.

“It doesn’t say.”

“It only says…”

She looked back at the page.

“‘If anything happens to me before Marguerite learns the truth, promise me she never signs another property document without knowing everything.’”

The room fell silent.

My husband had never mentioned such a letter.

Not once.

Janice folded her hands.

“I kept my promise.”

I stared at her in disbelief.

“You expect me to believe you’ve been protecting me?”

“No.”

“I expect you not to believe me.”

She looked toward Dale.

“Because that’s exactly what Harold said would happen.”

Then she reached into the envelope one last time.

This time she removed a faded photograph.

It showed my husband.

Harold.

Janice.

And one more man.

The moment Dale saw that fourth face…

he stumbled backward until he hit the refrigerator.

His lips trembled.

He whispered just one name.

“Richard…”

Janice slowly nodded.

“Yes.”

“The man who started all of this.”

And according to Harold’s letter…

he was never caught.

PART 10: THE MAN HAROLD FEARED

Nobody in the kitchen spoke.

The name lingered in the air.

Richard.

It meant nothing to me.

But to Dale…

It looked as though someone had reached inside his chest and squeezed the breath out of him.

Linda laid the photograph flat on the table.

“Who is he?”

Dale didn’t answer.

Janice did.

“Richard Vaughn.”

She tapped the man standing beside my late husband.

“He never signed the paperwork.”

“He never met the widows.”

“He never appeared on television.”

“He never testified.”

“So who was he?” Paula asked.

Janice looked directly at her.

“He was the man who chose the victims.”

A chill ran through me.

“What do you mean?”

“He collected names.”

“Recently widowed.”

“No children nearby.”

“People who trusted easily.”

“He built lists.”

Colleen slowly sat down.

“Oh, dear God…”

“I remember hearing that name.”

Linda frowned.

“From where?”

“Your father.”

She looked at me.

“About a year before Harold died.”

My heart skipped.

“He never told me.”

“No.”

“He told me.”

The room fell silent.

Colleen looked ashamed.

“He made me promise not to frighten you.”

“What did he say?”

“He said if anything ever happened to him…”

“…I was to make sure nobody convinced you to sell the Ridgeway house.”

I stared at her.

“You never told me.”

“I thought he’d been worrying too much.”

She wiped a tear from her cheek.

“I’ve regretted that for twenty-eight years.”

Janice quietly slid another document across the table.

“This is why.”

It wasn’t a legal paper.

It wasn’t a deed.

It was a handwritten notebook page.

Across the top, in bold black ink, were the words:

RIDGEWAY PROPERTIES

Below it…

a numbered list.

House after house.

Family after family.

Every address had a date beside it.

Some names were crossed out.

Some had circles.

Then I found mine.

18. Harold & Marguerite Ellis

Beside it, someone had written:

Delay. Husband suspicious.

My hands began to tremble.

Harold hadn’t imagined any of it.

Someone had really been watching us.

For years.

Paula looked horrified.

“Mom…”

“Dad knew?”

“I think he did.”

Linda studied the page carefully.

“This handwriting isn’t Janice’s.”

“No,” Janice replied.

“It belongs to Richard.”

Dale finally spoke.

Barely above a whisper.

“He always kept lists.”

Everyone turned toward him.

“You’ve seen this notebook before?”

He nodded slowly.

“Once.”

“Where?”

“In Harold’s office.”

Janice’s eyes narrowed.

“You never told me that.”

“I didn’t know it mattered.”

“It mattered.”

Linda looked from Dale to Janice.

“If Richard made these lists…”

“…where is he now?”

Nobody answered.

Not even Janice.

Then the kitchen phone rang.

It startled every one of us.

I almost let it go to voicemail.

Almost.

Something told me to answer.

I picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

There was no greeting.

Only a man’s calm voice.

“Mrs. Ellis?”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad you’re still alive.”

Every hair on my arms stood up.

“Who is this?”

A soft chuckle came through the line.

“I’ve been waiting a very long time for this family to start asking the right questions.”

My grip tightened on the phone.

“What do you want?”

The man ignored the question.

Instead, he said something that made my blood run cold.

“Tell Janice…”

“…she kept her promise.”

The line went dead.

I lowered the receiver slowly.

Janice’s face had gone completely white.

Linda stood up so quickly her chair fell backward.

“What did he say?”

I looked around the room.

Then I repeated every word.

No one spoke.

Finally…

Janice closed her eyes and whispered,

“Richard knows where I am.”

And for the first time since she walked through my front door…

she looked truly afraid.

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