Chapter 200
Emily's POV
When I fully regained consciousness, Simon was watching me with an unsettling intensity.
"Amy, do you remember me? It's Simon. All grown up."
I stared at him blankly, memories swirling. "I remember Simon," I said slowly. "We met in the attic."
His face lit up with joy. "Yes! That's right!"
I remembered that when I was locked in the attic as a child, Simon was the fourth human being I'd ever met, after my mother, the housekeeper who brought food, and Caitlin. Simon had been my first friend. He was locked in the attic because Caitlin said he had severe OCD and couldn't stop his cleaning rituals.
"Megan, it's her," Simon said excitedly. "It's our Emily! We did it!"
I turned to Megan, who was watching me carefully. "I remember you too, Megan," I said. "You helped us escape once. We ran along the riverbank, thinking we could get away."
Megan looked away, unable to meet my eyes.
"Megan," I asked softly, "did growing up make you unhappy?"
She didn't answer, but her body tensed.
"Where are we going now?" I asked, playing along with whatever personality they thought I had assumed. "Are we escaping from the attic again?"
"Yes," Megan finally replied, her voice steadier than her hands. "We're escaping. And this time, we'll make it out for good."
Her phone vibrated. As she read the message, her fingers began tapping rapidly on her knee.
"What is it?" Emma asked.
Megan's face contorted with rage. "Nolan kidnapped Lewis. The idiot is taking revenge himself!"
"Maybe," Emma said carefully, "he realized some people can't be brought to justice through legal means."
Megan's eyes narrowed. "You knew about this?"
Emma's silence was answer enough. I looked between them, piecing together the fragments of their relationship.
What grudge does Nolan have against Lewis Powell? I wondered. Was that why he became their inside man at the police station?
---
Nolan's POV
The rain came down harder as I dragged Lewis across the muddy ground toward the abandoned warehouse.
"Who are you? Why are you doing this?" Lewis whimpered, his expensive suit now soaked through, his body shivering uncontrollably.
I didn't answer until I'd hauled him inside the warehouse and secured his bindings. The rope bit into his wrists as I checked the knots—tight enough that escape was impossible.
"Do you remember Flynn Wheeler?" I finally asked, my voice echoing in the empty space.
His eyes darted around wildly. "I don't—I don't know who that is."
"Of course you don't." I slammed my fist into the wall beside his head, watching him flinch. "You've ruined so many lives that if you had to remember each victim and their families, that pig brain of yours wouldn't have enough capacity."
I grabbed his hair, forcing him to look at me. "Flynn Wheeler was my father—the bravest firefighter in this city. My hero." My voice cracked slightly. "Until you and Caitlin Weber got hold of him. You used his PTSD, trained him like a lab rat, turned him into your criminal."
Recognition flickered in his eyes, quickly masked by fear.
"Caitlin Weber's already dead," I continued coldly. "Now it's your turn."
I threw Lewis to the ground, his body hitting the concrete with a satisfying thud. I set up my phone on a nearby shelf, making sure the camera had a clear view.
"You're going to confess," I said, pressing my gun against his temple. "Everything. All the people you and Caitlin manipulated. All the deaths you caused. Tell it to the camera, or I'll blow your brains out right here."
Lewis stared at the phone, then at me, calculating his chances. I could see his mind working—wondering if Charles would notice his disappearance in time.
My phone buzzed. Megan.
"Why don't you trust me?" Her voice sounded disappointed when I answered.
"I trust you," I said, keeping my eyes on Lewis. "I just don't trust the law. Someone always has to sacrifice for revenge. I'm willing to be that someone."
"Nolan—"
"I'll make it clean. When it's done, I'll follow him. No one will trace this back to you."
There was silence on the other end. Then, softly: "I respect your choice. Just... make sure to clean up thoroughly."
"Goodbye, Megan." I hung up, feeling a strange sense of peace.
"Who was that?"
I ignored him, thinking about how Megan and I had first met. She'd been my therapist, helping me through the psychological toll of handling violent teenage disputes. I'd started questioning the effectiveness of education and law enforcement in stopping crime. During our sessions, she helped me learn about my father's case. It was Megan who had helped me piece together the truth—and who had offered to help me get justice, free of charge.
"Confess," I demanded, turning back to Lewis and jamming the gun against his skull.
He swallowed hard. "It wasn't me. It was Caitlin. She forced me onto her sinking ship."
"Lie again and I shoot."
"Fine! She—she wanted to create an unsolvable arson case. The academic world kept ignoring her research, so she wanted to make a name for herself." Lewis's words tumbled out desperately. "I didn't know what she was planning at first. Later, I had no choice but to help."
"How many cases?"
"Just that one."
I pressed the gun harder.
"Okay! Maybe one or two more had... issues."
I heard car tires splashing through puddles outside. Time was running out.
"Last chance. Do you really not remember Flynn Wheeler?"
Lewis shook his head frantically.
I smiled coldly. "Then let's go to hell and discuss it there."
---
Third-Person POV
The first gunshot made Dennis and Aaron's hearts sink as they approached the warehouse.
"Shit! We're too late, Lewis is gone!" Aaron shouted.
Then came a second shot.
They burst through the door to find both men on the ground with gunshot wounds to the head. Nolan's eyes were still open, but lifeless. On the shelf above, the phone continued recording silently.
Dennis checked the video, immediately understanding what had happened. What a waste. Nolan had the evidence. Why take justice into his own hands? Then again, considering Lewis Powell's arrogance and his political connections, perhaps Nolan didn't believe justice would be served any other way.
---
Across town, Raymond stared intently at multiple traffic camera feeds while Daniel tracked license plate information beside him.
"There!" Raymond pointed at a screen. "That black SUV only appears on this camera but not the previous intersection. It must have been parked near the house for a while."
"Tracking it now," Daniel said, fingers flying across the keyboard. Moments later, he looked up. "Got it. Megan's heading to the north shore area."
Raymond immediately called Michael.