THE WHISPERING SNOW CAME FROM BENEATH THE FROZEN ALTAR OF A FORGOTTEN PAST

The sheriff’s deputies cordoned off the altar area with yellow police tape, turning the picturesque winter wedding venue into a grim crime scene. Photographers snapped pictures of the disturbed snow, the rusted metal box, and the scattered legal documents. Elena sat in the warm passenger seat of Thomas’s SUV, wrapped in a heavy wool blanket, staring blankly out the frosted window.

The small cardstock she had pocketed burned against her thigh. The address written on it was simple: 412 Oakridge Lane, Blackwood.

"Elena, are you listening to me?" Thomas asked gently, placing a warm travel mug of coffee into her cold hands. "The deputies are going to take us down to the station to give our official statements. Once we're there, you can change out of that dress and warm up properly."

Elena took a slow sip of the coffee, letting the heat calm her racing pulse. "Thomas, where does Route 4 lead?"

"Route 4?" Thomas frowned, looking confused by the abrupt change of subject. "It leads down the mountain toward Blackwood, why?"

"That’s where Julian went," Elena said firmly, turning her gaze to meet his. "He didn't head toward the highway out of state. He took the mountain pass toward Blackwood."

"Of course he did, it's the only other way off this ridge," Thomas reasoned. "The deputies are already tracking him. They'll catch him at the roadblock near the valley."

"What if he isn't trying to escape the state, Thomas?" Elena’s voice dropped to a tense whisper. "What if he has something hidden at that address? Something connected to Claire—or worse, my mother?"

Before Thomas could respond, the front passenger door of the SUV was pulled open. A tall, weathered detective in a heavy leather jacket leaned in, badge gleaming in the dim cabin light.

"Ms. Vance? I'm Detective Miller," the officer said, flashing a brief, professional nod. "I’ve reviewed the initial statements from your guests and your aunt. We’ve recovered the diary and the ring. But I understand there was another document regarding your family estate?"

Elena hesitated for a fraction of a second. She thought of the card hidden in her pocket, the address in Blackwood, and the chilling realization that the police might only scratch the surface of Julian’s crimes.

"He forged my mother’s signature to empty our family accounts," Elena said carefully, omitting any mention of the card. "He said he owned everything."

Detective Miller’s eyes narrowed slightly. "We'll trace every financial transaction he made. But right now, we need you down at the precinct. Your fiancé's car was just spotted abandoned near the old logging trails outside Blackwood."