Chapter 5 - The Ghost From The Past
The man tied to the wooden chair raised his head slowly, blinking against the sudden rush of cool air and moonlight flooding into the derelict boathouse. His face was covered in a thick stubble, his eyes bruised and hollow, and his expensive suit ruined by dirt and sweat.
Clara gasped, clapping both hands over her mouth to stifle a scream. She stumbled backward, nearly losing her footing on the wet wooden planks of the dock.
“David?” Mark whispered, freezing in his tracks. The silver key slipped from his numb fingers, clattering loudly against the floorboards.
Lily buried her face deeper into Mark’s shoulder, trembling violently. “Daddy, I want to go home. It’s scary here.”
“Hush now, baby. Daddy’s right here,” Mark murmured, though his own voice was shaking uncontrollably. He stepped past the threshold, keeping Lily shielded against his chest.
David managed a weak, bitter chuckle that turned into a hacking cough. He spat a small clot of blood onto the dusty floorboards. “Took you long enough, Mark. I was beginning to think your new suburban life had made you completely soft.”
“What is going on here?” Clara demanded, stepping into the boathouse and glaring at her husband. “Who is this man, Mark? You told me your old business partner died in a fire five years ago! You lied to me?”
Mark didn't answer her immediately. He walked over to the chair and used a pocketknife to slice through the heavy nylon ropes binding David’s wrists and ankles. Once freed, David rubbed his sore arms, wincing in pain as circulation rushed back into his extremities.
“She doesn't know, does she?” David asked, eyeing Clara with a mixture of pity and contempt. “She thinks you’re just an ordinary family man working a boring desk job. She has no idea what you did to get the money to buy that little house of yours.”
“Shut up, David,” Mark warned, taking a threatening step forward.
“No, Mark, it’s time she knew the truth,” David fired back, his voice rising in intensity. “Your little husband stole three million dollars from our firm, Clara. He framed me for it, let me take the fall, and then skipped town to play house with you and that little girl.”
Clara turned slowly to look at Mark, her hazel eyes wide with betrayal. “Is that true?”
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Before Mark could open his mouth to defend himself, the heavy oak door of the boathouse slammed shut behind them with a deafening crash, plunging them into absolute darkness.
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