Chapter 3
They took Richard and Melissa to the station.
Eleanor, Dad, and I stood by the pool and watched the forensics team work.
It took them six hours.
I didn't leave.
Dad didn't either.
At around three in the afternoon, Detective Mills walked over.
He was holding his hat in his hands.
"Mrs. Vance," he said gently. "We found remains. Human remains. We can't confirm identity yet, but given the ring and the circumstances..."
Eleanor closed her eyes.
Twelve years.
Twelve years of wondering. Twelve years of hoping.
And now she knew.
"Can I see him?" she asked.
"Not yet. It'll take time. But yes. Eventually."
She nodded. Then she turned to my father.
"Thank you," she said. And she meant every word.
Dad just shook his head.
"I'm sorry it took so long."
On the drive home, I couldn't stop thinking.
"Dad. How did you know? How did you suspect something was under there?"
He kept his eyes on the road.
"Thirty years, sweetheart. You learn what a normal pool looks like. This one wasn't normal."
"What do you mean?"
"The deep end. The concrete slab was thicker than it should be. And the pipes had been rerouted. Someone had broken into the original foundation and poured new concrete over it."
He glanced at me.
"Then I found the ring. Stuck in an old drain pipe. It had been there a long time."
I swallowed.
"So you called Eleanor."
"I called her. She told me about David. About Richard. About Melissa. And I told her I needed both of them to sign an excavation authorization before I could dig."
"But they would never sign that if they knew what it was."
Dad almost smiled.
"So I buried it in the middle of a twelve-page work order. Standard paperwork. They both signed without reading. Rich people never read the fine print."
I stared at him.
My father. The quiet pool man.
He had outsmarted two murderers.
That night, the news broke.
"Local real estate developer Richard Harlow questioned in connection with human remains found beneath his swimming pool."
My phone started ringing.
Coworkers. Friends. Reporters.
I turned it off.
Dad and I sat on the porch. He drank his beer. I drank tea.
"Dad," I said. "They're going to come after us."
He didn't say anything.
But I saw his hand tighten around the bottle.
And I knew he was thinking the same thing.
Because Richard and Melissa had money. And money buys lawyers. And money buys fear.
And somewhere, in the shadows, there was someone else.
May you like
Someone who had helped build that pool.
Someone who was still free.
