Page 48 of The House That Held Her

“Chief…where are we going?” I whisper, my throat bone-dry.

He doesn’t answer. I see a flash of pointed peaks and glowing windows. My lungs seize.No.We’re returning to my house. My blood runs cold, an icy dread rooting me to the seat. I can’t tear my gaze away from the looming shape rising out of the darkness.

“Please,” I croak, hysteria thundering in my veins. “Don’t. Youcan’t?—”

The cruiser bumps to a stop on the gravel. Lightning forks across the sky, illuminating the porch—and on it, Walter paces like a caged animal, muttering frantically to himself. He whips around, catching sight of me in the car. His eyes blaze, his mouth twisting into a grin I feel in my gut.

A scream rips out of me, raw and wild. I flex every muscle in my body as if I can melt into the seat and vanish. The rain pelts the roof with deafening force, matching the manic pulse in my ears. Beyond the window, Walter stands, arms tense, beckoning with a silent invitation.

I’m trapped, cuffed in the back of a patrol car, with no idea why Chief Miller brought meback.My mind reels, and I realize once more how little control I have over my own fate. I scream, raw with terror, and my body curls into itself, drawing my knees up to my chest.

There is nothing I can do.

Nothing that will stop what is coming.

36

Rain soaks the air, washing everything in a dull roar, and lightning flashes in the black sky, exposing the familiar outline of my home. I’m trapped in the back of the police cruiser when Chief Miller slams his door shut. The sound of metal on metal is swallowed by the howling wind, but I can still feel its finality thud in my chest. Through the rain-splattered windshield, I watch him approach the porch, his uniform clinging to him, weighed down by the downpour. My breath is shallow; I can’t look away.

Walter stands there, a dark shape pacing in circles across the battered porch. He looks positively manic, his body tense, his head swiveling with each flicker of lightning. Even from inside the car, I can sense his anger radiating into the night. Rain hammers the roof, blending with the wild thrashing of my heart.

I fumble for the door, trying to escape, but the handle doesn’t budge. Child locks. I’m stuck. A jolt of raw panic drives me to the window instead. I brace my feet and slam my shoulders into it, but the glass doesn’t give. I scream in frustration, tears spill now. The wind tears the sound from my lips, devouring it instantly.

Outside, Chief Miller and Walter are shouting at each other, their words lost in the relentless storm. Their anger is unmistakable: arms flailing, fingers stabbing at one another, at the cruiser, at the house. I swallow hard, seeing something truly vicious in the sharp, rigid lines of Walter’s face.

Summoning courage, I launch my body sideways, kicking with every ounce of strength. The window cracks but doesn’t break. Lightning stutters overhead, illuminating the yard in haunting flashes: shattered branches, water-logged debris, the once-proud porch turned into a battered stage for this showdown.

Another kick. My legs are weak, numb from fear. Still, I see tiny fractures webbing across the glass, teasing me with the chance of escape. I grit my teeth, gather what’s left of my energy, and slam my foot out one more time, perfectly timed with a thunderclap. The window shatters, bulletproof film peeling away in a single piece.

An instant later, the door on the opposite side is wrenched open. I jerk my head around, a flash of lightning reveals the familiar damp, furious features of Chief Miller.

“Get out,” he snaps, voice lost in the wind. I barely have time to react before he lunges in, grabs a fistful of my hair, and yanks me from the cruiser. I slam into the muddy ground with a sickening splat, water and silt drenching my clothes. Pain ricochets through me; my lungs forget how to breathe.

Walter looms just behind Miller, like a demon. The moment he releases me, Walter snatches my arm with a bruising grip. Rain pours off his brow, and for a heartbeat, I see the reflection of lightning in his eyes—wild and unhinged.

I let out a shaky breath and try to twist free. “Where is Shannon?” I scream, my voice tearing from my throat. “She went upstairs after we opened the hidden door, and now she’s gone! You took her, you sick bastard. Where is she?”

His lips curl into a mirthless grin, ignoring my thrashing. He says nothing, just hurls me toward the house. The front door yawns open, swallowing me in darkness. A flicker of lightning reveals the dim hallway, the grand old furniture now battered, askew.

I stagger, snapping my head around to see if Shannon might be here—any sign of her, some clue. “Shannon!” I shout, voice echoing off the walls. No response. God, if he hurts her…

Walter pushes me to the empty chair and turns to Chief Miller who is following us into the living room, my living room.

"You know, I've always appreciated the things you've done, Andy. Even–“

"Shut the fuck up, George," Chief Miller snapped, his voice cold. It cut through the noise, through the rain and the wind pushing into the room. I lift my head, blinking against the water that had run into my eyes, trying to understand what I just heard.George? He just called Walter,George.

The realization hits me like a jolt—a final, sickening piece of the puzzle snapping into place. Walter is George Hawthorn? So, he hadn't disappeared, hadn't abandoned this house. He had simply become someone else. But why? Why would a man go from being the owner of the grandest estate in town to its caretaker? The questions buzzed in my mind.

"I understand you're upset," George began, his voice soothing.

"No,” said the chief. “I am done with this... horror show you've let yourself become, George. I'm done. I let it go too far. I should have stopped you years ago, but now it's gone beyond anything I can fix. I won't be part of it anymore. Your hold on this town, on me, ends here. I'll cover this one up, just like the others. But after this, I'm finished. If you harm another soul, I will make sure everyone knows what you are. I will take you down, even if it means going down with you."

George stands there, the rain dripping from his clothes, his face a picture of something almost serene, as if he was expecting this. "I understand," he says, his voice quiet, nearly soothing. You've always been my most loyal friend. My only loyal friend, really. Ever since Cece died?—"

"Don't," Chief Miller hisses, his finger raised, trembling. "Don't you dare."

George raises his hands, palms out, a gesture of innocence. "I'm done," he promises.

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