Chapter 12 - Back to Blackthorn
Dad's car was parked outside the locked gates of Blackthorn House. He hadn't been back since the fire. Vines covered the stone pillars, and the top floor remained open to the weather, black rafters pointing into the evening like broken ribs.
Marcus insisted I stay in his vehicle while officers checked the grounds. I obeyed until I heard Dad's voice through the ruined conservatory windows.
"I buried one daughter," he shouted. "I won't help you bury her again!"
I was out of the car before I knew I'd opened the door. Ruth came after me with a flashlight. Inside, weeds pushed through the cracked floor. Dad stood beside the old player piano. Juliette, no longer wearing her wedding gown, held a folder against his chest.
"Read it," she told him. "It says Caroline was unstable and threatened to burn this place down. Sign, and the banks won't take the rest of your home."
"That's a lie."
"You don't understand how much I owe!"
Dad's hands shook. "I understand you left your sister in a fire."
Juliette saw me and jerked back. "You again. Haven't you taken enough?"
"You could've opened that door," I said. "I begged you."
"And you could've signed the sale papers!" she screamed.
The words rang through the burned house. Marcus, arriving at the doorway, lifted his phone to signal the officers behind him. Juliette seized Dad's jacket and dragged him toward the cellar stairs.
"Don't follow us!" she yelled. "The steps are rotten."
I knew they were. Under the old kitchen lay the coal chute that had saved my life, and above it the beam that fell during the fire. Dad stumbled. Plaster broke free from the ceiling and crashed behind him.
"Jules," he said, suddenly gentle. "Let go of me."
May you like
Instead she pulled him into the dark. A second later, the cellar door slammed.
Then came a sound that made my whole body go cold: the scrape of a heavy bolt sliding into place.
