Chapter 12 - What Beatrice Thought Was Hers)
Police surrounded Seabrook House.
Ethan carried Noah into an interior room with no exterior windows.
Nora stayed beside them.
For three hours nothing happened.
Then Detective Quinn received a call.
Beatrice had been spotted at a gas station fifteen miles north.
Police shifted resources.
Ethan did not believe it.
"She wants us looking north."
Quinn nodded.
"So where would she go?"
Ethan thought about his mother.
Not where she lived.
Where she believed she belonged.
"The greenhouse."
The Langley greenhouse stood at the far edge of the property, hidden behind old cypress trees.
Charles had built it for Beatrice during their tenth anniversary.
She had spent years there.
When Olivia moved into Seabrook, Beatrice stopped using it.
"Why there?" Quinn asked.
"Because that's the one place she considered completely hers."
Police reached the greenhouse at dusk.
They found Beatrice inside.
She was alone.
Sitting at a wrought iron table.
She did not resist.
Ethan arrived ten minutes later.
Quinn tried to stop him from entering.
Beatrice called through the glass.
"Let him in."
Ethan went inside.
His mother looked tired for the first time in his life.
No makeup.
No diamonds.
No emerald dress.
Just a gray coat and dark pants.
"You frightened my son again."
Beatrice looked toward the fading sunlight.
"I wasn't going to take him."
"You sent the message."
"I wanted you here."
"Why?"
"Because everyone else is listening now."
"They should have been listening years ago."
She smiled sadly.
"You think I'm a monster."
"I don't need to think."
Her eyes tightened.
"I did not push Olivia into that hospital."
"You altered her medical chart."
"I created an opportunity."
"She died."
"I know."
"You tried to convince me Noah wasn't mine."
"I was protecting this family."
"From a baby?"
"From Olivia."
Ethan sat across from her.
"Why did you hate her?"
Beatrice's answer came immediately.
"Because Charles loved her."
Ethan frowned.
"Not like that."
"Then what?"
"He respected her."
The bitterness in Beatrice's voice was unmistakable.
"He listened to her. He trusted her. Every time she walked into a room, Charles looked at her as though she were the daughter he wished he'd had."
"And that was enough?"
"No."
Beatrice looked at him.
"She found the money."
"There it is."
"Do you know why I took it?"
"You wanted it."
"I wanted security."
"You had millions."
"Charles controlled every dollar."
"So you stole more."
"I built companies in my own name."
"Shell companies."
"Because your father would never have allowed me independence."
Ethan shook his head.
"You could have divorced him."
"And walk away from Seabrook?"
That sentence told Ethan everything.
Not Charles.
Not family.
Not dignity.
The house.
Beatrice had confused possession with identity until losing the house felt like losing herself.
Ethan leaned forward.
"You killed Dad."
Beatrice looked away.
"I gave him medication."
"Twice."
"He was in pain."
"He asked what you gave him."
"He was dying."
"That's not an answer."
Beatrice's voice hardened.
"He was going to expose me."
"So you silenced him."
"I wanted time."
"That is what you said about Olivia."
The words struck her.
Beatrice looked at him.
Ethan continued.
"You always want time. Time to recover documents. Time to stop an investigation. Time to make people doubt themselves."
He stood.
"And people keep dying while you buy yourself time."
Beatrice's face trembled.
It was small.
Almost invisible.
But Ethan saw it.
"Did you mean to kill Olivia?"
Beatrice said nothing.
"Did you?"
Her voice became a whisper.
"I didn't know she would bleed that much."
Ethan stopped.
Outside the greenhouse, Detective Quinn could hear through the open communication device attached beneath Ethan's coat.
"Who changed the medication order?"
Beatrice closed her eyes.
"I did."
Ethan felt grief move through him with terrible calm.
"And my father?"
"He was already dying."
"That's not what I asked."
Beatrice looked at him.
Tears finally appeared.
"I gave him the second dose."
"Knowing he'd already had one."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"He said he was calling the police in the morning."
Ethan stepped backward.
His mother had confessed.
Not dramatically.
Not under pressure.
Almost with relief.
Beatrice looked toward him.
"I am still your mother."
Ethan's face became cold.
"And Noah is still my son."
Detective Quinn entered.
"Beatrice Langley, stand up."
Beatrice did not resist when the handcuffs closed around her wrists.
As police led her toward the door, she looked at Ethan.
"What happens to Seabrook?"
He understood the question.
Even now.
"Nothing."
"What do you mean?"
"It stays exactly where it is."
Beatrice's lips parted.
May you like
Ethan added, "It just doesn't have you in it anymore."
For the first time, Beatrice Langley looked as though she understood what she had actually lost.
