Chapter 7: County Road 14
They brought Richard in at 10:17 a.m.
I know because Carol called me from the scene and told me, and I was standing in the kitchen of the safe house with a second cup of coffee going cold in my hand when she did.
"He didn't run," she said.
"He was still in the car when they pulled up.
On the phone.
He ended the call when he saw the vehicles." A pause.
"He asked for his attorney before anyone said a word."
"Of course he did."
"He also said — and I want you to know this — he said, 'This is Arthur Carver's doing.
He's a disgraced federal employee with a personal vendetta.
Nothing he's provided is admissible.' Those were his first words."
"What did your team say?"
"Nothing.
They don't need to." She paused again.
"Arthur.
We found the cabin.
Marsh is there now with a warrant.
There's a safe.
We're waiting on a technician to open it, but based on what's visible in the room — the filing cabinets, the equipment — this is not a hunting property."
"No," I said.
"It never was."
"I'll call you when we know more."
I set the phone down.
Lily was standing in the doorway.
She'd heard enough.
"They have him," she said.
"They have him."
She leaned against the doorframe.
Not collapsing — just letting the weight of it settle somewhere outside her body for the first time.
"His mother is going to say I destroyed the family," she said.
"His mother shoved a man off a porch in front of thirty witnesses on Easter Sunday," I said.
"She has her own problems."
Lily looked at me.
"What happens to her?"
"That depends on what she knew and when she knew it."
"She knew." Lily's voice was flat.
"She always knew.
She used to say things — little things — when Richard wasn't in the room.
Things like, 'Men like Richard need a woman who understands how the world really works.' Or, 'You should be grateful he chose you.'" She paused.
"Once, after the second time, I came downstairs with a bruise on my arm and she looked at it and said, 'Cover that before the guests arrive.' That was all.
Cover that before the guests arrive."
I didn't say anything.
"She handed me a cardigan," Lily said.
"A beige cardigan.
Like it was a normal morning."
The anger I'd been managing since Easter Sunday moved through me once and then settled back down.
"She'll face what she faces," I said.
"That's not yours to carry."
Carol called back at 12:44 p.m.
"The safe is open," she said.
"Arthur — there are documents in here with Dale Pruitt's signature.
Signed over to Richard's company.
Property transfers, equipment liens, a business agreement.
All dated within the last two weeks of Pruitt's life." A pause.
"There's also a prepaid phone.
We're pulling the records now."
"What about Solis?"
"A federal warrant for Solis was issued forty minutes ago.
He's in the wind, but he won't stay that way." Her voice shifted slightly.
"I also need to tell you — Warren Hale's attorney called again an hour ago.
Warren is prepared to provide full cooperation in exchange for a reduced charge agreement.
His attorney confirmed that Warren was aware of the Pruitt situation."
I let that land.
"He knew," I said.
"He knew.
And he used his position to ensure that any inquiry into Pruitt's disappearance stayed at the local level, where he could manage it." A pause.
"Arthur.
Dale Pruitt's wife is going to get answers.
I want you to know that."
I stood at the window for a moment after the call ended.
Lily came to stand beside me.
She didn't ask what Carol had said.
She just stood there, and after a moment she put her hand through my arm the way she used to when she was small.
We stood like that for a while.
"Dad," she said finally.
"Yeah."
"Thank you for coming."
"You called me," I said.
"That's all you had to do."
She rested her head briefly against my shoulder.
One second.
Then she straightened up.
"What happens now?" she said.
"Now we go home," I said.
"Your home.
We get your things.
And then we figure out the rest from solid ground."
"Richard's name is on the house."
"Richard is currently in federal custody.
His name on the house is a legal matter, not a practical one.
Carol's office will advise you on next steps." I looked at her.
"You're not going back to live there.
But you're entitled to everything that's yours inside it."
She nodded slowly.
"I want my grandmother's quilt," she said.
"It's in the hall closet.
He always said it was ugly."
"Then we'll get the quilt."
She almost laughed.
It was small and tired and real.
My phone buzzed one more time.
A message from the nameless number:
*"Solis located.
Crossing state line.
Federal intercept in progress.
You should know — the accounts we found?
There are five, not three.
The fifth one has a different name on it.
You're going to recognize it."*
A second message followed immediately.
A name.
May you like
I read it twice.
Then I called Carol.
