Chapter 6 - The Manila Folder
Officer Davis dropped the thick manila folder onto the small entry table. The pages inside spilled slightly, revealing old newspaper clippings, faded police reports, and aerial photographs of Maple Street dating back decades.
“Where did you find this?” Claire asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she stared at the black-and-white photos.
“At the bottom of the duffel bag, underneath the cash and the passports,” Davis replied, running a hand over his short hair. “Marcus wasn’t just running from domestic charges, Mrs. Vance. He’s been tracking the history of this entire block. And he wasn't doing it alone.”
Claire picked up an old clipping from 1994. The headline read: Local Developer Disappears Under Mysterious Circumstances. Below it was a photograph of a younger man who looked hauntingly familiar—Mr. Palmer.
“Mr. Palmer?” Claire breathed out, the words catching in her throat. “That’s impossible. He’s just a retired carpenter.”
“He goes by Palmer now,” Davis said grimly. “Twenty-five years ago, his name was Thomas Vance. Marcus’s uncle.”
The room seemed to tilt. Claire gripped the edge of the table for support. Marcus wasn't just an abusive husband acting out of sudden rage; he was part of a generational vendetta that Claire had unknowingly stepped right into the middle of when she married him seven years ago.
“He lied about everything,” Claire whispered, the pieces finally clicking together in a terrifying, coherent puzzle. “The marriage, the house, Sophie…”
“Speaking of your daughter,” Davis interrupted, his expression darkening. “Where is Sophie right now?”
Panic spiked through Claire’s veins like ice water. She turned toward the front door, pulling it open.
Across the lawn, Mr. Palmer’s house was completely dark. The warm light that had illuminated the living room window a few minutes ago was gone.
May you like
Claire bolted off the porch, sprinting across the dew-soaked grass toward the neighbor's house, her heart pounding in her ears.
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