Chapter 17 - cold stone
Within twenty minutes of the phone call, the quiet grounds of Blackwood Manor were swarming with local police cars and state investigator units. Red and blue emergency lights flashed violently against the wet stone facade of the mansion, casting long, frantic shadows across the lawn.
Detective Vance—a tall, stern man with grey hair and an unyielding demeanor—stood in the library, reviewing the documents we had pulled from the hidden floor safe.
"Your brother didn't plan this escape on his own, Miss Blackwood," Detective Vance said, setting his notebook on the desk. "The tactical precision of the ramming unit indicates a high-level private security firm. The men who took Arthur were professionals."
"Where would they take him?" I asked, wrapping a wool blanket tightly around my shoulders as I stood beside Catherine near the bay window.
"Most likely toward the coast," Vance replied, pulling a map from his coat and spreading it across the desk. "There are dozens of private deep-water docks along the shore near Gloucester. If they get him onto a private yacht outside state waters, we'll lose his extradition track entirely."
Catherine stepped up to the desk, her finger pointing firmly to a small, unmarked inlet on the eastern edge of the map. "They won't go to Gloucester, Detective."
Vance raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"
"Because the old Vance-Cross estate sat on the bluffs above Deadman's Cove," Catherine explained, her dark eyes sharp and decisive. "It was abandoned thirty years ago after the tax auctions, but the deep-water boathouse remains functional. My brother has been maintaining the property secretly through a shell company for two years."
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"How do you know that, Catherine?" I asked, staring at my sister in astonishment.
"Because I found the electricity tax receipts hidden inside Isabella’s vanity table six months ago," Catherine answered calmly. "If Arthur is fleeing the country, he is meeting his backers at Deadman’s Cove."
