Page 49 of The House That Held Her

The Chief looks towards me, his eyes meeting mine. I see something in them—something raw and broken. Regret. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the storm. "I'm sorry for what I've done, for what I couldn't stop. I should have protected you." He steps forward, removes the handcuffs from my raw, red wrists, and steps back toward the door.

“At least tell me where Shannon is,” I plead, trembling with rage and grief. “Tell me she’s alive!”

Walter just smirks, rain dripping from his hair onto the hardwood. “Haven’t seen your friend,” he says softly. “She must’ve left. Maybe she’s had enough of you, Margot.”

My vision blurs with hot tears. “Liar!” I shriek. I lunge for him, fists swinging, but Chief Miller grabs me by the shoulders and hauls me back, guiding me carefully behind him.

Miller’s next breath rumbles in his chest like the distant thunder. “God damn it, George! he growls. “You said you were finished with this madness, that you’d keep your darkness tucked away. You told me no more bodies. ‘One last time,’ you said, but now there’s a body just waiting around to be found in Hawthorn House. You’re going to kill Margot here, and now someone else is missing?” he’s shaking now, his voice growing louder with each word.

“I can’t keep burying your sins. I won’t. The fact I have for so long…” He shakes his head, voice ragged. “That’s on me, but it’s over. I’m done.”

George lets out a low, bitter laugh. He stands there, rain plastering his hair to his skull, that same half-smile on his lips. “Oh boy, Andy finally grows a pair!” he applauds patronizingly, “but you forget, you were part of this, too; always have been.”

Lightning cracks outside, throwing their faces into sharp relief: Miller’s trembling anger, George’s cold detachment. With a snarl, Chief Miller draws his gun, pointing it at George’s chest. Adrenaline explodes inside me. For a crazed second, I’m convinced they’ll kill each other.

Instead, Miller grips the weapon with purpose. “George Hawthorn,” he says, voice breaking with suppressed emotion, “you’re under arrest. For the murder of Nate Bennett, along with many, many others.” He squares his shoulders, the gun unwavering in his hand. “Put your hands behind your back.”

I stare, hardly daring to breathe. For months, I’ve felt hopeless, trapped in a never-ending nightmare. But seeing Walter, George, whatever his name was, forced to comply, arms raised and eyes dull with resignation, I feel a spark of relief. I let out a strangled sob, almost laughing with disbelief. “Oh my God,” I whisper to myself.

Walter moves slowly, whispering something under his breath, so low I can’t catch it. He’s… smiling? The subdued grin on his face is chilling. He looks almost proud, or possessed. I glance at Miller, who sets his jaw and snaps the cuffs around George’s wrists.

Within minutes, George is marched back outside, the storm’s fury lashing at us all. Miller pushes him into the back of his cruiser, where I was stranded only minutes ago. I dash forward, ignoring the rain slicing across my skin.

“Miller,” I gasp, adrenaline spiking all over again. “Please. Make him tell us where Shannon is—he took her! He must’ve. You have to force him?—”

“No,” Miller cuts me off, voice tired. “I’m done abusing my power. Everything’s official from here. I’ll bring him in, process him by the book. We’ll get the truth legally, not by intimidation. I’ve… done too much of that already.”

My heart writhes like a caged animal. “But that’s not good enough! After everything you’ve done, allowed to happen,nowis when you want to be the good guy?” I stare in disbelief.

“I’m sorry,” he says, stepping away, eyes brimming with regret. “We’ll find your friend. We’ll find Shannon. I promise.”

I stand there, drenched, wanting to scream. The door to the cruiser shuts with a heavy thunk, and Walter’s eyes, just visible through the rain-streaked window, lock on me. There’s a terror in them, an insanity that makes my blood run cold.

With trembling hands, I grip the cruiser’s door handle, yanking it open. Miller shouts behind me, but I barely hear him. I need to try, even if it’s insane. The moment I crack the door, the smell of stale sweat mixes with wet leather. George turns his head, and the sharp overhead light makes his eyes disappear, black holes existing where pupils should exist.

“Where’s Shannon?” I shout, voice cracking. “What have you done with her?”

George says nothing for a long moment, eyes drifting shut. Then, in a sing-song hush, he murmurs, “Do you really want to know, Margot? Would you do anything for the answer?”

I recoil at his tone. “Name it,” I whisper, hateful tears blurring my vision. “Just tell me she’s alive.”

He half-laughs, the cuffs rattling as he shifts his hands behind him. “I want a hug,” he says, voice dropping to a childlike hush that crawls up my spine.

My stomach revolts. “You’re sick. Absolutely insane?—”

Behind me, Miller’s footsteps splash through the mud. “Don’t do it, Margot. Don’t get close to him. You’re not safe?—”

But I can’t fight the guilt, the desperation. Shannon is all I have, all I trust. If there’s even a shred of hope she’s alive… I push aside reason, ignoring the frantic pounding of my heart, and nod.

I lean into the cruiser. Walter’s eyes widen, a slick grin crossing his face. The wind tears at us both, rain streaming onto the seat. I inch closer, feeling his breath warm against my cheek. The feeling is vile, invasive, a thousand times worse than I imagined. My mind screams at me to pull away, but I force my arms around him, feeling the cold bite of the cuffs pressing into my chest. My stomach heaves; I can smell the stale blood on him–does it belong to Nate, to Shannon?

George lets out a ragged sigh, and in my ear, he whispers one word that sends my heart crashing: “Pier.”

My entire body goes rigid. “What…?” I manage.

“The pier,” he clarifies, a ghost of amusement coating each syllable. “That’s where you’ll find Shannon.”

I recoil, stumbling out of the cruiser, nearly falling into the storm again. Miller lunges, grabbing me, steadying me as I pitch sideways. “Margot!” he yells over the wind. “What did he say?”

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