{"id":7701,"date":"2026-09-20T01:28:25","date_gmt":"2026-09-20T01:28:25","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/?p=7701"},"modified":"2026-09-20T01:28:25","modified_gmt":"2026-09-20T01:28:25","slug":"part-4-plan-b","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/?p=7701","title":{"rendered":"PART 4 \u2014 PLAN B"},"content":{"rendered":"

The words on the flash drive wouldn\u2019t leave my mind.
\nPLAN B.<\/strong>
\nI stared at the evidence bag in the officer\u2019s hand.
\n\u201cWhat exactly did you find on it?\u201d
\n\u201cWe haven\u2019t opened it yet,\u201d he said. \u201cIt has to be processed properly.\u201d
\nArthur had already been taken away.
\nCarol too.
\nDaniel Mercer, the man who had helped impersonate my father, was gone with the other officers.
\nBut suddenly, the ballroom didn\u2019t feel safe anymore.
\nAunt Susan must have seen the fear on my face.
\n\u201cWe\u2019re leaving.\u201d
\nI nodded.
\nMr. Sanders gathered the remaining papers into his briefcase.
\n\u201cI\u2019ll come with you.\u201d
\nThe three of us walked out through the service entrance.
\nI didn\u2019t want to pass the guests again.
\nI didn\u2019t want to see Lily.
\nI didn\u2019t want another person staring at me like my life was entertainment.
\nOutside, the night air hit my face.
\nFor the first time since entering the ballroom, I could breathe.
\nThen Mr. Sanders stopped.
\n\u201cDiane.\u201d
\nI looked at him.
\n\u201cThere is something I should have told you earlier.\u201d
\nMy stomach dropped.
\n\u201cPlease don\u2019t tell me there\u2019s another father.\u201d
\nAunt Susan almost laughed despite everything.
\nMr. Sanders didn\u2019t.
\n\u201cIt concerns the Pasadena house.\u201d
\nOf course it did.
\n\u201cWhat now?\u201d
\nHe opened his briefcase and removed a folder.
\n\u201cYour mother didn\u2019t simply leave you the property.\u201d
\n\u201cI know.\u201d
\n\u201cNo. You don\u2019t.\u201d
\nHe handed me a document.
\nI looked down.
\nThere were numbers everywhere.
\nParcel references.
\nTrust language.
\nOwnership percentages.
\nThen one number caught my attention.
\n$8,400,000.<\/strong>
\nI stared at it.
\n\u201cWhat is that?\u201d
\n\u201cThe current estimated value of the property.\u201d
\nI looked up.
\n\u201cThat house is worth eight million dollars?\u201d
\nAunt Susan whispered, \u201cOh my God.\u201d
\nMr. Sanders nodded.
\n\u201cThe neighborhood changed dramatically over the last decade.\u201d
\nMy mind went blank.
\nI had remembered an old house with cracked tiles, bougainvilleas, and a backyard where my mother used to sit with me.
\nI had never thought about its market value.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s why Arthur wanted it.\u201d
\n\u201cPartly.\u201d
\nThat word scared me.
\n\u201cPartly?\u201d
\nMr. Sanders turned the page.
\n\u201cYour mother also retained certain mineral, development, and access rights connected to the neighboring parcels.\u201d
\nI stared at him.
\n\u201cI don\u2019t understand.\u201d
\n\u201cA development company has been trying to purchase that entire block.\u201d
\n\u201cHow much?\u201d
\n\u201cThey made an offer six months ago.\u201d
\nHe showed me another page.
\nMy breath stopped.
\n$21,750,000.<\/strong>
\nAunt Susan grabbed my arm.
\n\u201cDiane\u2026\u201d
\nI couldn\u2019t speak.
\nTwenty-one million dollars.
\nSuddenly, Arthur\u2019s plan made horrible sense.
\nHe hadn\u2019t wanted a house.
\nHe had wanted a fortune.
\nMr. Sanders continued.
\n\u201cAnd according to your mother\u2019s trust documents, you are the only person who can authorize the sale.\u201d
\nI looked at him.
\n\u201cSo if Arthur had transferred ownership using the fake Diane\u2026\u201d
\n\u201cHe could have attempted to sell it immediately.\u201d
\nMy hands started shaking.
\nThat was why he had been desperate.
\nWhy he had prepared fake identification.
\nWhy he had hired people.
\nWhy he had kicked me out.
\nHe thought he could erase me and replace me with someone willing to sign.
\nAunt Susan whispered, \u201cThat man is a monster.\u201d
\nI looked back toward the banquet hall.
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nMy voice came out colder than I expected.
\n\u201cHe\u2019s scared.\u201d
\nMr. Sanders studied me.
\n\u201cOf what?\u201d
\nI thought about the flash drive.
\n\u201cOf something bigger than losing the house.\u201d
\nThe next morning, I barely slept.
\nAt nine, Aunt Susan drove me to a private medical office in West Hollywood.
\nJonathan Hale was already there.
\nI recognized him immediately.
\nTall.
\nGray at the temples.
\nDark suit.
\nThe same calm face from business magazines.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

But in person, he looked different.
\nOlder.
\nMore human.
\nMore nervous.
\nHe stood when I entered.
\nFor several seconds, neither of us spoke.
\nThen he said,
\n\u201cHi, Diane.\u201d
\n\u201cHi.\u201d
\nThat was it.
\nNo dramatic hug.
\nNo instant connection.
\nJust two strangers standing in a room trying to understand whether eighteen years had been stolen from both of them.
\nA nurse explained the DNA process.
\nSimple cheek swabs.
\nResults would be expedited.
\nForty-eight hours.
\nJonathan looked at me.
\n\u201cYou don\u2019t have to stay after this.\u201d
\nI appreciated that.
\n\u201cI know.\u201d
\nWe completed the test.
\nThen, before leaving, he asked,
\n\u201cWould you have coffee with me?\u201d
\nI hesitated.
\nNot because I hated him.
\nBecause part of me wanted to trust him immediately.
\nAnd that scared me more.
\nFinally, I nodded.
\n\u201cOne coffee.\u201d
\nWe went to a small caf\u00e9 nearby.
\nNo assistants.
\nNo lawyers.
\nNo security.
\nJust us.
\nJonathan didn\u2019t ask about money.
\nHe didn\u2019t ask about the property.
\nHe asked about school.
\nBooks.
\nWhat music I liked.
\nWhat I wanted to study.
\n\u201cArchitecture,\u201d I said.
\nHis expression changed.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cMy mother studied architecture.\u201d
\n\u201cI know.\u201d
\n\u201cHow?\u201d
\nHe smiled sadly.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s how I met her.\u201d
\nFor the first time, I wanted to know more.
\nSo I asked.
\nAnd Jonathan told me about a twenty-three-year-old woman named Elena who could sketch buildings from memory.
\nMy mother.
\nHe told me she hated expensive restaurants.
\nLoved roadside coffee.
\nArgued about everything.
\nLaughed loudly.
\nHe told me things Arthur had never bothered to remember.
\nThen his phone rang.
\nHe glanced at the screen.
\nHis face tightened.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\nI immediately knew something was wrong.
\nJonathan stood.
\n\u201cWhere?\u201d
\nHe listened.
\nThen looked at me.
\n\u201cIs everything okay?\u201d
\nHe ended the call.
\n\u201cMy attorney received a notice this morning.\u201d
\n\u201cAbout what?\u201d
\n\u201cThe Pasadena property.\u201d
\nMy heart sank.
\n\u201cWhat happened?\u201d
\n\u201cSomeone filed an emergency ownership dispute.\u201d
\nI stared at him.
\n\u201cWho?\u201d
\nHe hesitated.
\n\u201cArthur Reynolds.\u201d
\nI laughed once.
\nNot because it was funny.
\nBecause it was unbelievable.
\n\u201cHe\u2019s in police custody.\u201d
\n\u201cThat doesn\u2019t stop his attorney.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat is he claiming?\u201d
\nJonathan\u2019s expression hardened.
\n\u201cThat the house never legally belonged to your mother.\u201d
\nI froze.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s a lie.\u201d
\n\u201cProbably.\u201d
\n\u201cProbably?\u201d
\n\u201cHe claims he has documents.\u201d
\nI stood.
\n\u201cWhat documents?\u201d
\nJonathan slid his phone across the table.
\nThere was a scanned court filing on the screen.
\nI read the first paragraph.
\nThen the second.
\nMy stomach turned.
\nArthur was claiming the Pasadena house had been purchased using money from his family.
\nHe claimed my mother had fraudulently placed it into a trust.
\nIf the court accepted even part of his claim, the property could be frozen for months.
\nMaybe years.
\nBut then I saw something stranger.
\nAttached to the filing was an old photograph.
\nMy mother.
\nArthur.
\nAnd another man standing outside the Pasadena house.
\nI zoomed in.
\nI recognized him.
\nJonathan noticed my face.
\n\u201cYou know him?\u201d
\nI whispered,
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nIt was Daniel Mercer.
\nThe man arrested last night.
\nExcept the photograph was dated nineteen years earlier.
\nBefore I was born.
\nMy phone rang.
\nMr. Sanders.
\nI answered immediately.
\n\u201cDiane, we have a problem.\u201d
\n\u201cI know about the lawsuit.\u201d
\n\u201cThat isn\u2019t the problem.\u201d
\nMy chest tightened.
\n\u201cWhat happened?\u201d
\n\u201cThe police opened the flash drive.\u201d
\nI sat back down.
\n\u201cWhat was on it?\u201d
\nHe paused.
\n\u201cFinancial records.\u201d
\n\u201cSo?\u201d
\n\u201cThey\u2019re connected to the trust.\u201d
\nI gripped the phone.
\n\u201cWhat records?\u201d
\n\u201cPayments.\u201d
\n\u201cTo who?\u201d
\nAnother pause.
\nThen he said the name.
\n\u201cA judge.\u201d
\nJonathan\u2019s face changed when he heard my reaction.
\nMr. Sanders continued.
\n\u201cThere are transfers going back nearly fifteen years.\u201d
\nI whispered,
\n\u201cFrom my father?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cCarol?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cThen who?\u201d
\nMr. Sanders took a breath.
\n\u201cThe payments came from an account opened under your mother\u2019s name.\u201d
\nI stopped breathing.
\n\u201cMy mother has been dead for fourteen years.\u201d
\n\u201cI know.\u201d
\n\u201cThat\u2019s impossible.\u201d
\n\u201cThat\u2019s why you need to listen carefully.\u201d
\nI stood again.
\n\u201cWhat are you saying?\u201d
\n\u201cSomeone has been using Elena\u2019s identity since shortly after her death.\u201d
\nThe entire caf\u00e9 seemed to go silent around me.
\nThen he said the sentence that changed everything again.
\n\u201cAnd Diane\u2026 the account made a payment three days ago.\u201d
\nThree days ago.
\nSomeone using my dead mother\u2019s name was still alive.
\nStill moving money.
\nStill involved with the house.
\nAnd suddenly, Plan B didn\u2019t feel like Arthur\u2019s backup plan anymore.
\nIt felt like someone else\u2019s.
\nSomeone who had been planning this long before Arthur ever decided to steal my signature.
\nTO BE CONTINUED\u2026<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

PART 5 \u2014 THE DEAD WOMAN\u2019S ACCOUNT<\/strong><\/h1>\n

I stared at my phone.
\n\u201cSay that again.\u201d
\nMr. Sanders lowered his voice.
\n\u201cThe account under your mother\u2019s name made a payment three days ago.\u201d
\nMy mouth went dry.
\n\u201cThat can\u2019t happen.\u201d
\n\u201cI agree.\u201d
\n\u201cShe\u2019s dead.\u201d
\n\u201cI know.\u201d
\nJonathan had gone completely still across the table.
\nI put the phone on speaker.
\nMr. Sanders continued.
\n\u201cThe account was opened fourteen years ago, shortly after Elena died.\u201d
\nJonathan\u2019s face changed at my mother\u2019s name.
\n\u201cWho had access?\u201d he asked.
\n\u201cWe don\u2019t know yet.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat bank?\u201d
\nMr. Sanders told him.
\nJonathan immediately took out his phone.
\n\u201cI know someone there.\u201d
\nMr. Sanders interrupted.
\n\u201cDon\u2019t call anyone yet.\u201d
\nJonathan looked annoyed.
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause the account may already be under investigation.\u201d
\nI leaned closer to the phone.
\n\u201cWhat was the payment for?\u201d
\nThere was a pause.
\nThen Mr. Sanders said,
\n\u201cLegal consulting.\u201d
\n\u201cTo the judge?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cTo Daniel Mercer.\u201d
\nMy stomach turned.
\nThe man who had pretended to be my father.
\nThe man who had known my mother before I was born.
\nThe man now sitting in custody.
\nJonathan whispered,
\n\u201cSo Daniel was being paid by Elena\u2019s account.\u201d
\nMr. Sanders answered,
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nI thought about the photograph.
\nMy mother.
\nArthur.
\nDaniel.
\nStanding together outside the Pasadena house.
\n\u201cMr. Sanders, how well did you know Daniel?\u201d
\nSilence.
\nToo much silence.
\nI felt something shift inside me.
\n\u201cYou know him.\u201d
\nMr. Sanders sighed.
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nJonathan looked sharply at the phone.
\n\u201cExplain.\u201d
\n\u201cHe worked for Elena\u2019s family.\u201d
\nMy heart started pounding again.
\n\u201cDoing what?\u201d
\n\u201cProperty management. Security. Errands. Whatever your grandparents needed.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd after they died?\u201d
\n\u201cHe stayed around.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\nAnother pause.
\n\u201cI never knew.\u201d
\nI stood.
\n\u201cNo more secrets.\u201d
\nPeople in the caf\u00e9 looked toward me.
\nI didn\u2019t care.
\n\u201cNo more telling me half the truth because you think I\u2019m too young. No more protecting dead people. No more protecting Arthur. No more protecting anyone.\u201d
\nMr. Sanders said quietly,
\n\u201cYou\u2019re right.\u201d
\nI sat down slowly.
\n\u201cThen tell me everything.\u201d
\nHe breathed in.
\n\u201cYour mother believed someone was stealing from the family estate before she died.\u201d
\nJonathan\u2019s eyes narrowed.
\n\u201cWhat kind of stealing?\u201d
\n\u201cSmall transfers at first. Then property records began changing.\u201d
\nI whispered,
\n\u201cDaniel?\u201d
\n\u201cWe suspected him.\u201d
\n\u201cDid my mother know?\u201d
\n\u201cShe suspected him too.\u201d
\n\u201cThen why was he still around?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause she couldn\u2019t prove it.\u201d
\nI looked at Jonathan.
\nHe looked furious now.
\n\u201cWas Arthur involved?\u201d
\nMr. Sanders replied,
\n\u201cI never had proof.\u201d
\n\u201cBut you suspected him.\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nThat explained too much.
\nArthur hadn\u2019t suddenly become greedy when I turned eighteen.
\nHe had been circling the estate for years.
\nMaybe since before my mother died.
\nThen another thought hit me.
\n\u201cHow did my mother die?\u201d
\nNobody answered.
\nMy whole body went cold.
\nI looked at Jonathan.
\nThen at the phone.
\n\u201cHow did she die?\u201d
\nMr. Sanders finally said,
\n\u201cCar accident.\u201d
\n\u201cI know that.\u201d
\nI had been four years old.
\nI remembered adults whispering.
\nA funeral.
\nBlack clothes.
\nA closed coffin.
\nArthur telling me Mommy wasn\u2019t coming home.
\n\u201cWhat happened exactly?\u201d
\n\u201cHer car went off the road on Angeles Crest Highway.\u201d
\n\u201cWas she alone?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cWas there an investigation?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd?\u201d
\n\u201cIt was ruled an accident.\u201d
\nI stared at nothing.
\nRuled an accident.
\nNot necessarily one.
\nJonathan leaned forward.
\n\u201cWhy are you asking?\u201d
\nI looked at him.
\n\u201cBecause if someone was stealing from her before she died, and then someone opened a bank account in her name afterward\u2026\u201d
\nI didn\u2019t finish.
\nI didn\u2019t need to.
\nJonathan\u2019s jaw tightened.
\nMr. Sanders said,
\n\u201cDiane, don\u2019t jump to conclusions.\u201d
\n\u201cThen give me a better explanation.\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t have one.\u201d
\nThat answer scared me more than anything else.
\nJonathan stood.
\n\u201cWe need the original accident file.\u201d
\n\u201cI already requested it,\u201d Mr. Sanders said.
\n\u201cWhen?\u201d
\n\u201cThis morning.\u201d
\nI stared at my phone.
\n\u201cYou requested my mother\u2019s accident file before telling me about the bank account?\u201d
\n\u201cI saw the transaction history.\u201d
\n\u201cSo you suspected this too.\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nI closed my eyes.
\nFor eighteen years, everyone around me had known pieces of my life.
\nI was the only one who knew nothing.
\nWhen I opened my eyes again, Jonathan was watching me.
\nNot with pity.
\nWith concern.
\n\u201cI need to see the Pasadena house,\u201d I said.
\nMr. Sanders immediately replied,
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause the property dispute makes things complicated.\u201d
\n\u201cI own it.\u201d
\n\u201cLegally, yes.\u201d
\n\u201cThen I\u2019m going.\u201d
\nJonathan said,
\n\u201cI\u2019ll go with you.\u201d
\nMr. Sanders sounded frustrated.
\n\u201cNeither of you should be wandering around a disputed property while a fraud investigation is active.\u201d
\nI almost laughed.
\n\u201cYou lawyers really know how to make everything sound romantic.\u201d
\n\u201cDiane.\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019m going.\u201d
\nHe sighed.
\n\u201cThen wait until I meet you there.\u201d
\nTwo hours later, I stood outside the Pasadena house for the first time in years.
\nThe bougainvilleas were still there.
\nWild now.
\nOvergrown across one side of the wall.
\nThe paint was faded.
\nThe windows dusty.
\nBut the house looked almost exactly the way it did in the photograph with my mother.
\nA strange ache filled my chest.
\nJonathan stood beside me.
\n\u201cYou remember it?\u201d
\n\u201cPieces.\u201d
\nI touched the front gate.
\n\u201cMy mom used to sit with me on the steps.\u201d
\nJonathan smiled faintly.
\n\u201cShe loved those steps.\u201d
\nI looked at him.
\n\u201cYou were here.\u201d
\n\u201cMany times.\u201d
\nBefore I could ask more, Mr. Sanders arrived.
\nHe walked toward us carrying an old leather folder.
\n\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d
\n\u201cSomething from storage.\u201d
\nHe handed it to me.
\nMy mother\u2019s name was written on the front.
\nInside were property photographs.
\nOld tax records.
\nReceipts.
\nAnd handwritten notes.
\nThen I found a floor plan.
\nThe basement had been marked with a red X.
\n\u201cWhat\u2019s this?\u201d
\nMr. Sanders leaned closer.
\n\u201cI don\u2019t remember that.\u201d
\nJonathan took the plan.
\n\u201cThere\u2019s no basement.\u201d
\nI looked at him.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cThis house never had one.\u201d
\nI pointed at the drawing.
\n\u201cThen what\u2019s that?\u201d
\nHe studied it.
\nA small room beneath the rear section of the house.
\nNo exterior entrance.
\nNo listed windows.
\nAnd next to it, my mother had written one sentence:
\nIf anything happens to me, open this room first.<\/strong>
\nMy heart started pounding.
\nMr. Sanders whispered,
\n\u201cI\u2019ve never seen this.\u201d
\nJonathan looked toward the house.
\n\u201cNeither have I.\u201d
\nWe entered.
\nDust floated in the afternoon light.
\nEverything smelled old.
\nClosed.
\nForgotten.
\nThe furniture had been covered with white sheets.
\nMy footsteps echoed through the hallway.
\nThen I saw something that stopped me.
\nA small scratch on the wall.
\nAt first, it looked meaningless.
\nThen I moved closer.
\nTiny pencil marks.
\nHeight measurements.
\nDates.
\nAnd names.
\nDiane \u2014 Age 2<\/strong>
\nDiane \u2014 Age 3<\/strong>
\nDiane \u2014 Age 4<\/strong>
\nMy mother had measured me here.
\nI touched the last mark.
\nFor a moment, the investigation disappeared.
\nI was just a little girl again.
\nJonathan stood behind me but said nothing.
\nI appreciated that.
\nThen Mr. Sanders called from the kitchen.
\n\u201cDiane.\u201d
\nI turned.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cYou need to see this.\u201d
\nWe followed him.
\nBehind an old pantry cabinet was a narrow wooden panel.
\nThe panel had been painted to match the wall.
\nMr. Sanders pulled it open.
\nBehind it was a staircase.
\nGoing down.
\nJonathan whispered,
\n\u201cYou have got to be kidding me.\u201d
\nThe air below smelled damp.
\nWe used our phones for light.
\nAt the bottom was a metal door.
\nNo handle.
\nJust a keypad.
\nI stared at it.
\n\u201cHow are we supposed to open that?\u201d
\nJonathan examined the buttons.
\n\u201cFour digits.\u201d
\nI thought about my mother.
\nHer birthday?
\nMine?
\nThe house number?
\nThen I remembered the photograph in my wooden box.
\nMom holding me in front of the bougainvilleas.
\nOn the back she had written:
\n04-17. Always us.<\/strong>
\nMy birthday.
\nApril seventeenth.
\nI entered\u00a00417<\/strong>.
\nThe lock clicked.
\nNobody moved.
\nThen Jonathan slowly opened the door.
\nInside was a small room.
\nA desk.
\nMetal filing cabinets.
\nAn old computer.
\nBoxes.
\nDozens of them.
\nMr. Sanders whispered,
\n\u201cElena\u2026 what were you doing?\u201d
\nI stepped inside.
\nOn the desk sat a tape recorder.
\nBeside it was an envelope.
\nMy name was written on it.
\nAgain.
\nI picked it up.
\nThis one wasn\u2019t sealed.
\nInside was a cassette tape and a note.
\nDiane, if you are hearing this, then I probably failed to stop them.<\/strong>
\nMy hands began shaking.
\nJonathan found an old cassette player in one of the drawers.
\nWe inserted the tape.
\nStatic filled the room.
\nThen my mother\u2019s voice came through.
\nOlder than I remembered.
\nTired.
\nAfraid.
\n\u201cDiane, my beautiful girl\u2026 I hope you never hear this.\u201d
\nMy knees weakened.
\nJonathan placed a chair behind me.
\nI sat.
\nThe recording continued.
\n\u201cIf you do, it means Arthur found a way to stay close to you after I\u2019m gone.\u201d
\nI looked at Mr. Sanders.
\nHe looked devastated.
\nMy mother continued.
\n\u201cArthur is not working alone.\u201d
\nStatic.
\nThen:
\n\u201cDaniel has been moving money. Arthur has been helping him hide it.\u201d
\nJonathan clenched his fists.
\nThe recording cracked.
\n\u201cI confronted them tonight.\u201d
\nMr. Sanders whispered,
\n\u201cOh God.\u201d
\n\u201cThey denied everything. But I copied the records.\u201d
\nA sound came through the tape.
\nA door closing.
\nMy mother\u2019s breathing changed.
\n\u201cI don\u2019t have much time.\u201d
\nThen she said:
\n\u201cIf they discover this room, they will destroy everything.\u201d
\nMy heart was pounding so hard I could hear it.
\nThe tape continued.
\n\u201cThere is one person I still trust.\u201d
\nJonathan leaned closer.
\nMy mother said his name.
\n\u201cJonathan.\u201d
\nHis face went white.
\n\u201cIf I don\u2019t make it through this, someone needs to tell him about Diane.\u201d
\nJonathan covered his mouth.
\nFor the first time, I saw tears in his eyes.
\nThen my mother said one final thing.
\nSomething none of us expected.
\n\u201cThe car has been acting strangely.\u201d
\nEvery muscle in my body locked.
\n\u201cThe brakes feel soft.\u201d
\nMr. Sanders whispered,
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cI asked Daniel to take it to the mechanic yesterday.\u201d
\nJonathan stood abruptly.
\nThe recording continued.
\n\u201cHe said everything was fine.\u201d
\nStatic filled the room.
\nThen my mother whispered,
\n\u201cBut I don\u2019t believe him.\u201d
\nThe tape ended.
\nNobody spoke.
\nNot for a long time.
\nThen Mr. Sanders\u2019 phone rang.
\nHe answered.
\n\u201cYes?\u201d
\nHis face slowly drained of color.
\n\u201cWhen?\u201d
\nHe listened.
\nThen looked at me.
\n\u201cWhat happened?\u201d I asked.
\nHe lowered the phone.
\n\u201cThe police went to question Daniel again.\u201d
\nMy stomach twisted.
\n\u201cAnd?\u201d
\n\u201cHe\u2019s gone.\u201d
\nJonathan stared at him.
\n\u201cWhat do you mean, gone?\u201d
\n\u201cHe was being transferred.\u201d
\nMr. Sanders swallowed.
\n\u201cThe transport vehicle was hit.\u201d
\nMy blood went cold.
\n\u201cIs Daniel dead?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nI almost wished the answer had been yes.
\nMr. Sanders looked directly at me.
\n\u201cDaniel escaped.\u201d
\nAt that exact moment, something creaked above us.
\nAll three of us froze.
\nA floorboard.
\nInside the house.
\nSomeone was upstairs.
\nJonathan immediately moved in front of me.
\nThen another sound.
\nSlow footsteps.
\nCrossing the kitchen.
\nHeading toward the hidden staircase.
\nMr. Sanders whispered,
\n\u201cTurn off your lights.\u201d
\nDarkness swallowed the room.
\nThe footsteps stopped directly above us.
\nThen a man\u2019s voice came down the stairs.
\nCalm.
\nFamiliar.
\n\u201cDiane?\u201d
\nMy blood turned cold.
\nBecause I had heard that voice many times growing up.
\nIt was Arthur.
\nTO BE CONTINUED\u2026
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n

Click Here to continuous Read\u200b\u200b\u200b\u200b Full Ending Story\"\ud83d\udc49\"PART 6 \u2014 THE MAN AT THE TOP OF THE STAIRS\u00a0<\/a><\/h1>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The words on the flash drive wouldn\u2019t leave my mind. PLAN B. I stared at the evidence bag in the officer\u2019s hand. \u201cWhat exactly did you find on it?\u201d \u201cWe … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":7692,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-7701","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-news"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7701","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=7701"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7701\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7708,"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7701\/revisions\/7708"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/7692"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=7701"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=7701"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=7701"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}