She was certain she’d found a rug… but something inside was moving…
“Sort of,” she replied, trying to sound calm.
“Even at night?” he pressed. “Listen, seen anything odd? Found anything unusual?”
Sarah put on an innocent face:
“Lost something?” she asked, as if clueless.
The man scratched his head:
“Lost? You could say that…”
“So you were here last night?”
“Yeah, I said that.”
“And you didn’t notice anything strange?”
“Nope,” Sarah said evenly, keeping her voice steady. “Just the dogs didn’t bark like usual. Otherwise, quiet.”
He stared at her, as if trying to read the truth in her eyes, then turned and walked to his car, glancing back at the cabin. Sarah watched from the window until he drove off. Then she opened the cellar hatch.
Margaret Peterson, groaning, climbed out. She held her side but wasn’t crying—just angry:
“Unbelievable! Came back for me… Scoundrel! But you, Sarah, you’re something—saved my life twice!”
“So who is he to you, Margaret?” Sarah couldn’t help asking.
“My son-in-law, and what a piece of work—pure scum! My daughter died, and now he’s after me to grab my share. I told him long ago: he gets nothing. Not him, not his new ‘fiancée’!”
Margaret spoke with such fire, as if he stood before her:
“I left everything to my grandson. That greedy pig gets nothing but what he earned: his business, cars, house…” She laughed bitterly, angrily. “But it’s not enough—he wants to ruin my name too…”
Sarah listened, stunned by the scale of wealth and greed she’d only read about. By her standards, someone that rich should be secure, calm. But here was betrayal, danger, even attempted murder.
Margaret, as if reading her thoughts, added:
“My husband and I built a whole mining company. Government contracts, properties abroad, yachts, a private plane. This son-in-law would’ve squandered it all if not for my grandson. He’s a real leader. I know our business is in good hands.”
“So he wanted you to leave him something too?” Sarah guessed.
“Of course! After my daughter died, he planned to marry some young thing. Wanted to ship me off to Florida or California so I wouldn’t interfere. My younger daughter’s been begging me to join her, but I can’t stand the West Coast. My grandson—he’s in Texas. I’d move to him if not for this creep. He wouldn’t let me… Just dumped me in a rug at the dump.”
Sarah looked at her with sympathy:..
