Amelia
Chapter Seventeen
Amelia
E erie shadows danced across Pine Haven’s lobby as I paced, each click of my heels against the marble floor echoing generations of footsteps before mine. Through century-old pine walls, lawyers’ voices from the conference room blurred with the distant hum of backup power, a white noise that set my teeth on edge.
“Sit.” Taylor’s voice carried the same gentle firmness she used with injured athletes. “Your neck is screaming tension.”
“I’m fine.” The lie tasted as bitter as the emergency supply coffee cooling on my desk.
“You’re not.” Her therapist’s hands found my arm, then the knots twisting my muscles. “Your trapezius feels like granite. When did you last sleep?”
Days blurred together since Dad’s midnight meeting with Crystal Ridge. Since security footage shattered everything I thought I knew about family loyalty. In the corner, the powerless grandfather clock stood silent, another witness to secrets too heavy to bear.
“That’s what I thought.” Taylor guided me to a chair, her fingers finding pressure points that made me wince. The lavender scent of her hand cream stirred memories of easier days when friendship came without the weight of family secrets. “Deep breath.”
“I don’t have time—”
“Make time.” Hunter appeared with coffee—real coffee, not the emergency supply stuff. Marie’s special blend filled the air with rich warmth. The scent told me he’d gone into town, looking after me even now. “You’re no good to anyone if you collapse.”
The coffee cup anchored my trembling hands. Hunter settled beside me, his knee pressing against mine with steady reassurance. Pine and spice clung to him, mixing with coffee in a moment of peace I wanted to hold on to.
“The lawyers can handle the next hour,” he murmured, his voice steady as the mountains themselves. “Let them earn their ridiculous fees.”
A laugh bubbled up, surprising us both. The sound bounced off the lobby walls, strange but welcome. Hunter’s smile reached his eyes, warming something deep in my chest—a reminder that some things remained pure even in chaos.
“There she is.” Taylor’s fingers found another knot. “The Amelia who once lived for thrilling adventures.”
“That was a long time ago.” Before Mom died. Before, responsibilities and secrets became stones around my neck.
“Was it?” Hunter’s thumb brushed my knuckles, sending warmth through my arm. “The Amelia I know turned a failing resort into a community cornerstone. Sounds like quite the adventure to me.”
Agent Blake emerged from the conference room, her boots silent on the thick carpet. My stomach clenched at the grim set of her mouth.
“The hospital security footage.” Her tablet cast blue light across her features. “You need to see this.”
The screen showed Dad’s room at midnight, medical equipment casting ominous shadows. Michael entered, his movements carrying a hesitation I’d never seen in my confident older brother. My throat tightened.
“Turn up the volume,” I whispered. Hunter’s hand found my back, warm and steady.
Michael’s voice crackled through the speaker, heavy with guilt: “They know about that night, Dad. About what happened when Mom...”
Static claimed the rest, leaving only questions.
“Power failure,” Agent Blake said, suspicion threading through her professional tone. “Your brother left twenty minutes later. We lost him after that.”
My coffee cup trembled. Hunter’s hand covered mine, his touch grounding me as memories crashed back—Michael taught me to ride a bike and check my closet for monsters, always protecting me. Until now.
“Michael wouldn’t...” The words died. Wouldn’t what? Betray us? Like Dad had? The thought burned like ash on my tongue.
“Hey.” Taylor kneeled before me, her therapist’s eyes seeing too deep. “Remember high school? When I fell on broken glass?”
The apparent shift threw me, but the memory came sharp and clear. “You mean when I...”
“When you held my hand the whole way to the hospital,” she finished softly. “Even though blood terrifies you. That’s who you are, Amelia. You face what scares you.”
Hunter’s arm slid around my waist, his warmth steady against the evening chill seeping through the old windows. “She’s right. And you’re not facing anything alone.”
A commotion at the front desk caught our attention. Claire hurried in, her usual composure cracking around the edges as she clutched her tablet. Emergency lights caught raw worry in her eyes.
“Mrs. Wheeler’s full confession just came through.” Her breath hitched. “And... there’s something else. About the night your mother died.”
My throat closed. That night pressed in—police at our door, Dad’s broken voice, Michael’s tears. “What about it?”
“She says...” Claire glanced at Hunter, compassion softening her features. “She says both your mothers were there. Together. And they weren’t alone.”
The lights flickered, shadows dancing across pine walls like restless spirits.
“Your father,” Agent Blake read from the confession, her professional mask slipping for a moment. “Arthur Horton was there, too. And according to Mrs. Wheeler...”
Darkness claimed us as power failed. In the heavy silence, a single phone chimed, its screen piercing the black.
The message burned across my screen:
Ask your brother about the accident. About what he saw. Some secrets are kept out of love. Some out of guilt. The clock’s ticking, princess. Time to learn which one killed your mother.
Emergency lights painted Hunter’s face in blue shadows as he read over my shoulder, his arm tightening around me. I leaned into his strength, allowing myself this moment of weakness as his cologne mingled with crisp mountain air seeping through old window frames.
“Your breathing’s too shallow,” Taylor murmured, professional concern warming her voice. “Here.” Cool plastic pressed into my palm. “Small sips.”
The conference room door opened, spilling lamplight like honey across marble floors. Sandra Martinez emerged, determination driving each click of her heels.
“We have options,” she began, but her words faded as movement caught my eye—Michael, standing at the property’s edge, phone pressed to his ear. The sight of him against the darkening sky sent me fifteen years back, to another night he’d stood alone in shadows.
I moved without thinking, Hunter’s warmth falling away as I pushed through the front doors. Evening air thick with pine and the promise of snow stung my face.
“Michael!”
He turned, and my heart cracked. Tears tracked down his cheeks, his expression haunted in the dying light. For a moment, I saw him at fifteen again. The night Mom died, coming home with guilt shadowing his eyes.
“You weren’t supposed to be here.” His hands shook as he pocketed his phone. “The power... you were supposed to evacuate.”
The truth cut through me, sharper than the mountain wind. “You cut the power?”
“To protect you.” His voice cracked like thin ice. “They’re coming, Amelia. Tonight. I had to get you out before—”
“Before what?” Hunter’s voice carried the steady strength of the mountains themselves.
Michael’s eyes darted between us, panic rising like that night Mom’s accident was reported. “You don’t understand. That night... what I saw...”
“Then help us understand.” I stepped toward my brother, reaching. His familiar aftershave couldn’t mask the sharp tang of fear rolling off him. “Please, Michael.”
He moved toward me, then froze as Taylor appeared, her therapist’s instincts reading his distress.
“Remember when we were kids?” Her voice carried the same soothing tone that had guided us through countless crises. “You protected us from everything. Let us protect you now.”
Something in Michael crumbled like spring snow. “Dad didn’t betray us,” he whispered, each word heavy with years of pain. “He made the deal to protect me. Because of what I did that night.”
“What did you do?” The question shook me like fall leaves, though part of me dreaded the answer.
“I followed Mom to the meeting spot. Saw her with Mrs. Miller, with Wheeler’s uncle.” Words tumbled out like an avalanche. “But someone else was there...” He swallowed hard, moonlight catching his tears. “Someone I knew. When they started arguing, I got scared. I ran. The car that forced Mom off the road...” His voice shattered. “If I’d stayed, if I’d warned her...”
Hunter stepped closer as I swayed, his presence solid as earth. “Who was the other person, Michael?”
Headlights swept the driveway like searching fingers. A familiar silver Mercedes approached, its engine purring in the mountain quietness.
“No.” Michael’s face went white as fresh snow. “No, no, no. They’re early. Go. Now!”
“Who’s early?” Taylor’s professional calm cracked. “Michael, what’s happening?”
“They found Mom’s evidence. The real evidence. About everything.” Desperation drove every movement as he reached for me. “About who killed Richard Miller. About why Mrs. Miller had to disappear. About—”
The shot cracked the night open. Michael jerked. Red bloomed across his chest. He fell forward, and my world tilted with him.
I caught him as we went down, the copper smell of blood mixing with pine needles. Taylor dropped beside us, medical training taking over.
“Inside!” Hunter shielded us as more cars appeared, surrounding us like winter wolves. “Claire! Code red!”
Agent Blake’s team swarmed out. Chaos erupted in shouts and sirens. But all I heard was my brother’s fading voice:
“The photo... in Mom’s old room... behind the...”
His eyes closed, dark lashes against snow-pale skin.
“Michael!” My scream tore raw from my throat. “No, please...”
Through tear-blurred emergency lights, I watched Dad’s car door open with excruciating slowness. But it wasn’t Dad who emerged.
Wheeler’s wife stepped into chaos, an elegant suit incongruous against violence. And beside her...
“Hello, princess.” Her smile gleamed in the moonlight. “Time to talk about your mother.”
“Get them inside!” Agent Blake’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade as her team moved with military precision. Hunter tried to pull me up, but I couldn’t leave Michael. The ground bit cold through my knees, his blood warm against my hands.
“He’s breathing.” Taylor’s medical training steadied her voice despite trembling hands. “Pulse is steady. Through-and-through shoulder wound.” She pressed her jacket against the bleeding fabric, darkening instantly. “But he needs a hospital now.”
Sirens wailed against the mountain walls as FBI agents surrounded Wheeler’s wife. Her smile never wavered as if she held one last card.
“You think arrests matter now?” She nodded toward the tree line, where shadows shifted like secrets. “Look who else came to this brief reunion.”
A figure emerged from the darkness—tall, elegant, silver-haired. The face from Hunter’s childhood photos was barely touched by time.
“Mom?” Hunter’s voice cracked like river ice.
“I’m sorry, baby.” Katherine Miller’s eyes shone with tears in the emergency lights. “I tried to stop them, but—”
Another shot split the air. Katherine stumbled. Agent Blake caught her before she fell, red spreading across her sleeve like spilled wine.
“Enough!” Steel hardened Agent Blake’s voice. “Mrs. Wheeler, you’re under arrest for—”
“For what?” Rachel Wheeler’s laugh shattered like frozen branches. “Trying to protect my family? Like Margaret Horton tried to protect hers?” Her eyes found mine, sharp as the winter wind. “Like your mother died trying to protect you?”
“What are you talking about?” The words scraped from my throat as paramedics rushed to Michael, their uniforms stark against the darkness. Antiseptic cut through the metallic scent of blood.
“Ask your father about the inheritance.” Something wild danced in her eyes. “About why Crystal Ridge wanted Pine Haven. About what’s buried under the old ski slopes.”
“Don’t,” Katherine gasped as agents pressed bandages to her arm, crimson seeping through white gauze. “Rachel, please—”
Rachel Wheeler’s smile fell like a discarded mask. “Sorry, Kate. But they killed my brother that night, too. Time everyone knew the truth.”
Understanding hit with avalanche force. “Wheeler’s uncle... he was your brother?”
“The insurance investigator who tried to expose everything,” Hunter breathed against my hair, his hand warm on my shoulder. “The one who was going to testify...”
“The one your mother got killed,” Rachel spat, hatred raw in her voice.
“No.” Michael’s voice came weak but clear as paramedics lifted him. “That’s not... what happened. Mom tried... to save him. From...”
His eyes rolled back. They rushed him toward the waiting ambulance lights that painted everything in surreal red and blue.
“Michael!” I lurched forward, but Hunter held me as more shots exploded from the darkness like deadly fireworks.
“Inside, now!” Agent Blake’s team returned fire, sound bouncing off Pine Haven’s ancient walls.
Hunter carried me into the lobby as Taylor ran alongside Michael’s stretcher. Through the chaos, I glimpsed Rachel Wheeler in handcuffs, her perfect composure finally shattering, and Katherine Miller pressed between FBI agents, rushing her to safety.
In the lobby, Hunter pulled me close. His heartbeat thundered against my cheek, his familiar scent wrapping around me like a shield.
“He’ll be okay,” he whispered into my hair, his breath warm against my skin. “They both will.”
“Hunter...” I looked up, seeing my fear reflected in his eyes, which had become my anchor. “What if—”
His kiss silenced me, brief but fierce. “No, what-ifs. We’re ending this. Tonight.”
Our phones lit simultaneously, casting ghostly light across our faces:
The evidence isn’t in the resort. Check the place where it all began. Where two mothers made a choice that changed everything.
The old ski patrol cabin. Midnight.
Come alone, or Michael won’t be the only brother who pays for his parents’ sins.
PS - Better hurry, princess. The explosives are already set.
Through Pine Haven’s windows, a red light blinked from the ski slopes like an evil star.
Thirty minutes until midnight.
And somewhere in the darkness, someone watched.
Waiting.
Ready to finish what started fifteen years ago.
The powerless grandfather clock stood frozen at 11:30. Time, like the truth, was running out.