“There were firefighters on the opposite side of the wreck, trying to dig out the car. I got out of the truck while Aunt Bridgette waited in the truck with Catherine. I tried to see if I could dig out the car from the other side. I cleared off the hood of the car and the windshield. I could see little Cole Piedmonte and his sister inside, screaming from the back seat. What the hell was I supposed to do? Leave them there? I couldn't. The firefighters were having difficulty reaching them. I tried to reach the driver's side door, but it was frozen shut. I began to kick in the windshield over the driver's seat so that the shards wouldn't harm the children inside the car. The windshield broke in three large sheets. I cleared the remaining edges from the frame with my coat sleeve before climbing into the car and grabbing hold of the children. I passed Natalie out of the car to Aunt Bridgette, and I carried Cole. We loaded them into the front seat between us and headed back home. There was no chance that we were making it through the bridge that night. The accident was devastating, and there was no other way off the pass. I had to get Catherine back up to the house, and pray that my medically trained family members could get my wife and our baby through the night. As for Monte's kids, I would bring them back to their father once the path was clear. I couldn't just leave them out there in the cold. They would have died. It was bad enough that their mother was killed in the accident.”
“We arrived back at the farm at midnight. Gus determined that Catherine was close to having the baby, but she still had a few centimeters to go. We laid her down in the living room. Bridgette piled blankets on the floor. Gus grabbed his medical bag and monitored her heart, her pulse. Bridgette placed her palm on Catherine's stomach and she could feel and time the contractions as they came and went. As the contractions came Bridgette pushed down on the top of Catherine's stomach, to help move the labor along. I was ushered out of the room by Grandma because I was panicking at this point. Roughly four hours after midnight on Christmas Day, Tristan was finally born.
“We let Catherine rest on the third floor. She was completely exhausted at that point. We checked on her periodically through the night. Christmas morning, I got sidetracked with the kids opening their presents. Bridgette checked on her at 5:00 in the morning, and when we went back at 8:00 A.M., she was gone. We tried reporting her missing, with her health issues, we tried to tell the officers that she needed to be found right away, but they didn't listen, telling us that we had to wait twenty-four hours to report her missing. Shortly after, she was pulled out of the lake, and I was the local police's primary suspect all due to a life insurance policy that was taken out a couple weeks before Catherine's death, which was her idea in the first place! I think she knew what was coming, and wanted to make sure we were okay. Since the case was frozen, we could only collect on the pre-existing life insurance policy, not the new one, not until the case was solved.”
“Our only access to the town was cut off when the bridge collapsed. Our luck was against us. But when she went missing that morning, I knew it wasn’t of her own accord.”
“The police and the coroner were convinced that it was suicide, but I knew better. I tried to tell the police about Kendricks’ history of stalking her, but they wouldn’t listen. I’m convinced Kendricks paid them off. Sounds far-fetched, but considering the corruption in this town… it might not be far off the mark.”
“I'm sorry I lied,” Jack concluded contritely, “I just thought suicide and stalkers and murder plots were too dark of a topic for my children to comprehend at such a tender age. Please understand that. It’s important that you know the truth before officers start asking questions. I loved your mother. I still do. I would give up the world to have her back for a moment. No matter what anyone says to you, know that to be true.”
*
The massive oak clock struck midnight when Blake put his master plan into action; the booming toll of midnight would mask his ascent to the third floor. The grandfather clock that was located in his father’s study would sound over the jarring groan that he expected the thick metal door to make. He had located what he believed to be the correct key that would unlock the rooms on the third floor, and in the most peculiar of ways. These rooms were locked for a reason. These rooms, which once were inhabited by his mother, had to be able to tell him something about what happened. Blake had a sneaking suspicion that his father was not telling all that he knew. He was hiding something, and Blake was determined to find out what.
Blake recalled the time he and Tristan asked Jack what the key was for and he always replied the same, “I don’t remember.” Even though Jack wouldn’t say, Blake had a feeling that he knew what it opened. The key felt heavy in Blake’s hand, as if reminding him of the weight of what he was about to do. He didn’t like betraying his father’s trust, but he had to find out the truth, about Tristan and their mother. He had lied for fifteen years, what is to stop him now?
Twelve strikes of the grandfather clock were all he had to open an old, potentially rust-sealed door that hadn’t been opened in over a decade. If he got caught, Blake would never hear the end of it. All the kids knew that the third floor was strictly out of bounds. They had all been warned to stay out of the third-floor suite. He didn’t know what waited for him there, but he hoped it would provide answers.