Chapter 26
I couldn’t help feeling a surge of hope when Max stepped into the picture.
Thanks to him, the puzzle of my death seemed to be getting solved faster. They had nailed the killer, inching closer to identifying my charred remains as the wronged spirit sentenced by my husband’s hand. “If we’ve got the culprit, the rest is up to you,” Max said, stretching leisurely before sipping his whiskey, an air of detachment about him as if he’d have stayed out of it if not for Ronald roping him in. But regardless, I felt grateful for Max’s involvement.
“Once we sort the paperwork tomorrow, I’ll call you. If the DNA confirms it’s Claire Floyd, we’ll have this case cracked wide open!” said Ronald.
Ronald’s dedication to uncovering the truth about my fate had not gone unnoticed, and I was thankful for it. My spirit decided to stick with Ronald, eager for the truth to emerge.
When Scar Man and his crew got nabbed outside the bar, Claude and his childhood friends stepped out from their private room and ran into Ronald and his team.
Claude nodded politely at Ronald, who, though indifferent, returned the gesture with a courteous smile.
With his gaze fixed on Scar Man, Claude recognized them from an earlier confrontation and asked, “Mr. Collins, what’s their offense p>
“They’re linked to Claire’s case. We need to bring them in for questioning. I hope, Mr. Hart, you can stand before me tomorrow just as well,” Ronald replied, eyeing Claude.
With a smirk, Claude shot back, “The innocent have got nothing to be scared of p>
As Scar Man passed Claude, he burst into laughter, mouthing a question that struck a nerve. “Do you want Claire or Kate p>
Claude sensed something amiss, his connection to Kate puzzling him.
Yet, before any further reaction, a truck barreled out of nowhere, slamming into the vehicle carrying Scar Man and his accomplices, igniting a ferocious fire, which had thrown Ronald ten feet away, and Ronald struggled to his feet amid curses. My spirit froze, witnessing the lengths someone would go to conceal the truth of my death.
With Scar Man’s sudden demise, were my chances of justice extinguished alongside p>
“No!” I watched the flames, feeling my spirit dissolve once more.
Was my death to remain a mystery, with Scar Man’s orchestrator still at large?
Supported by other detectives, Ronald stood up, furiously checked his phone, and got called back to the station.
The explosion drew Claude out, his realization of the situation’s gravity setting in. Every lead tied to Claire seemed cursed with misfortune.
He approached Ronald, suggesting,
“Stop digging into Claire. As a family
member, I believe she’s
orchestrating this chaos. The more you probe, the more people she
might harm p>
My spirit trembled at his words as I thought, ‘Is Claude implying the explosion was my doing? Dead, how could I mastermind anything p>
Ronald turned away, dismissive of Claude’s insinuations.
Claude persisted, painting me as a manipulative schemer, desperate to avoid divorce at all costs, even fabricating tales to gain the Hart family’s sympathy.
I smirked, wondering if Claude could get more above himself. Even the detectives shook their heads.
Ronald’s expression darkened with every accusation.
“You’re the best lawyer in Crestview Metropolis. What a shame.” Ronald spat out a mouthful of blood and turned to leave.
But Claude snorted toward his retreating figure. “Claire’s parents died saving me. She had no place to go but to the orphanage p>
Upon hearing Claude, Ronald stopped in his tracks. They didn’t know this accident well, thinking it might be some clue to the case.
Claude continued, “To catch the
attention of the Hart family, she told the media that our family was ungrateful. To make us take her into the family, she used every trick and everyone around. After all these years together, I thought Claire had given up on revenge. However, she drugged me and got into my bed to make me marry her. Besides, she pushed my love down the stairs and the pond, trying to kill her over and over again. What do you think? Is Claire a schemer p>
Claude painted me as a spiteful spirit, a story I knew too well wasn’t true.
As the fire died down, and Claude’s fists clenched in anger, he suggested the accident might’ve been my plot, urging Ronald to focus on me instead.
But even as Claude spun his web of lies, my spirit and the truth remained, waiting for a crack in the facade, a chance for the real story to emerge from the ashes.
Ronald and the other detectives
exchanged a knowing glance before
one of them said, “Thanks to you,
Mr. Hart, for pointing us in a new direction. We’ll take it from here p>
en
And with that, they left, leaving me feeling my spirit torn to pieces.
At that moment, I finally realized how blind I was back then, thinking Claude was one of the good ones.
I leaned toward him and asked, “Claude, why did you always believe I was still out there, stirring things up?” Claude murmured, “Claire, you have to stay alive p>
It was as if he heard me, his response catching me off guard. Did he want me to live?