Chapter 4 - The Sound of Closing Doors
The heavy oak door of the upstairs master bedroom clicked shut with a finality that resonated through the entire house. Downstairs, Clara collapsed into one of the dining chairs, burying her face in her hands as silent, wracking sobs finally tore through her chest. Mark paced back and forth across the rug, muttering curses under his breath while his phone buzzed incessantly in his pocket—another alert from the credit union demanding immediate payment.
“She’s ruined us,” Mark whispered, his voice cracking with genuine terror. “If the auditors see those fund transfers, I’m looking at federal wire fraud charges.”
Clara looked up, her eyes red-rimmed and filled with a sudden, venomous hatred for the man she had married.
“You did this. Every single dollar we had, you gambled away on those underground poker games, and you lied to my face every single night.”
Mark stopped pacing, towering over her with a dark scowl.
“Don't you dare play the victim, Clara! You knew I was playing the markets; you just didn't care as long as we were driving new cars and taking vacations to Cabo.”
The sound of drawers sliding open in the bedroom directly above them interrupted their argument. Thud *thud* thud. Heavy items being tossed into suitcases. Hazel was not wasting a single second. Clara wiped her face angrily, standing up so fast her chair screeched against the hardwood floor.
“We have to stop her. If she leaves this house with those legal documents, we have zero leverage left.”
Mark grabbed his leather jacket from the back of the sofa, his expression hardening into something desperate and dangerous.
“She can’t drive that cottage far. The registration on her car is expired, and I control the insurance policy.”
Clara grabbed her car keys from the ceramic bowl by the front door.
“She doesn't need to drive. I put a tracking device on her keychain six months ago for her own safety.”
Mark paused, a grim smile spreading across his face as he pulled his phone from his pocket and swiped open the proprietary app.
“Show me where the old woman thinks she’s hiding.”
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Upstairs, standing silently beside her open bedroom window, Hazel looked down through the glass. She watched Mark and Clara huddle together over the illuminated screen of a smartphone, their faces contorted with schemes. Slowly, deliberately, Hazel reached into her pocket, pulled out the tracked keychain, and dropped it straight into the open metal grate of the floor heating vent.
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