She pointed the gun at the culprit—Golden Retriever.
“No,” Eddie said with a weak voice.
“Family sticks together, right?” Maggie said, tears streaming down her face. “He shot you, so now I’m going to shoot him back.”
“No,” Eddie said, this time firmer. The red pool on his chest had grown from a puddle to a lake.
Maggie held steady, her stare never leaving Retriever.
“They think because you have a certain blood in you that you’re like them, but you’re not. That stuff doesn’t matter. The person you are is because of how you were raised. You’re mother and father are the two best people I know, and they didn’t raise a killer.”
Maggie held the gun firm. It was like she wasn’t listening. The guards continued to move in, but not as confidently as before.
At the last second, she dropped the gun.
Youkelstein had no such reservations. He picked it up and fired a sizzling bullet through Golden Retriever’s brain—it’s not like he was using it, anyway. Not a bad shot for an elderly man with poor vision and shaky hands, if he said so himself.
The shot bought them a few seconds to make a run for it. Before they did, with one last gasp, Eddie ordered them to stuff his belongings—badge, wallet, handcuffs, and second weapon—into the laundry bag. There was no time for tearful goodbyes.
As they moved out the door another shot rang out. This one pierced Youkelstein’s clavicle and he could feel the bone shatter. But he fought through the pain until he felt the sun on his face.
Once outside, Maggie and Jamie began running toward the front gate, yelling “Help!”
The scene was complete chaos. People pressing up against the gates. Helicopters flying overhead. Youkelstein moved after the kids as fast as he could, but collapsed midway through the yard.
Maggie and Jamie saw him fall. Maggie took Eddie’s gun and began running at one of the heavily armed guards who was moving in on Youkelstein. Jamie followed his sister.
Chapter 67
“So did you vote today?”
“Huh?” Flavia spacily responded to her female assistant as they stood in her Rhinebeck gallery.
Before she could answer, a bell signaled the opening of the front door. Flavia sent a paranoid look in its direction, but a stream of sun burst through on a rare, sun-drenched November day, and spotlighted the familiar man.
False alarm.
“Are you okay, Flav?” her assistant asked again.
She wasn’t sure. She hadn’t slept since Veronica Peterson and her group had shown up here yesterday. She could feel the ghosts closing in on her last night with every creak of the old house.
Flavia shook the cobwebs. “I’m sorry. Just a little distracted. No, I plan to go after we close. The polls are open until eight, right?”
The man approached her. It was FedEx Steve. Just like every day, he wore his purple and orange pullover with baseball cap and a happy-to-be-alive smile.
“I almost didn’t recognize you. You’re usually dressed a little more Flav-ulous,” he greeted her, before turning apologetic. “But that’s not to say you still don’t look great.”
She smiled at him. He wasn’t being flirtatious. He was just one of those serial complimenters. She wore a simple fall sweater and jeans, her hair was in a ponytail and she wore little make-up. Obviously, Steve didn’t notice the dark circles under her eyes.
Flavia took the package, and after trading pleasant goodbyes with Steve, she carried it into her office and shut the door. She checked the postal mark—Chappaqua, New York. She removed the mailing tape with a pair of scissors, and opened the box.
The contents of the box consisted of a key that was attached to instructions, along with a neatly typed manuscript titled My Family Tree—The Last Leaves of Evil. By Ellen Sarowitz-Peterson.
The final item was a portable video player. On it, Ellen had loaded a video in which she methodically explained everything from the beginning, filling in all the blanks.
Ever since her father’s deathbed confession, Flavia had felt as if her identity had been stolen. She had been lost. But suddenly she knew exactly who she was, and where she’d come from. She realized that the ghosts weren’t chasing her—they were protecting her.
And it was clear what she needed to do next. She had to get Ellen’s memoir to Jim Kingston before it was too late.
Chapter 68
Veronica had pushed her way to the front gate of the Kingston estate. She doubted her children were inside, but she was sure that Jim Kingston knew their whereabouts. She needed to talk to him.