Chapter 7 - The Blood Money
The revelation hit me with the force of a physical blow to the chest.
David had intentionally rammed a massive truck into our car, risking his own sister's life.
"Why would you do that?" I asked, my voice trembling with pure shock.
"Because Lauren promised me two million dollars from her secret life insurance policy," David confessed.
"I have gambling debts, Marcus, bad debts with very dangerous people."
David kept the gun perfectly steady, his eyes completely devoid of any empathy.
"Lauren told me her plan was to frame you for domestic abuse so she could take everything in the divorce," he explained.
"But then you started sleeping with Olivia, and her plan changed."
I realized I had walked blindly into a family of absolute psychopaths.
"So you helped her fake a murder scene to collect the insurance money?" I asked.
David shook his head, a look of genuine anger flashing across his face.
"Lauren was supposed to meet me at the safe house yesterday with my share of the money," David said bitterly.
"But she never showed up, and her burner phone has been turned off."
David stepped closer, pressing the cold barrel of the gun against my ribs.
"Where did you hide her, Marcus?" he demanded fiercely.
"I told you, I don't know where she is," I argued, my panic rising sharply.
"She played both of us, David, she took the money and vanished."
David narrowed his eyes, clearly doubting my sudden realization.
"If she ran away, then whose blood is currently soaking into the bedroom carpet?" David challenged me.
That was the one missing piece of the puzzle that made no sense.
If Lauren had simply walked away, she would not have needed a massive amount of real human blood.
I suddenly remembered the private doctor who had been treating her at our home.
"The doctor," I blurted out. "The physical therapist who came here twice a week."
David frowned in confusion.
"What about him?" David asked, his grip on the gun faltering slightly.
"Lauren didn't need physical therapy, so why was he really coming here?" I questioned.
I slowly reached for the filing cabinet and pulled open the bottom drawer.
I found a stack of empty blood collection bags hidden beneath a pile of old tax returns.
"She was paying the doctor to draw her own blood over the last four months," I realized aloud.
"She saved enough of her own blood to create a perfect, undeniable murder scene."
Before David could process this terrifying dedication, a bright spotlight suddenly illuminated the entire room from the window.
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A police megaphone blared loudly from the front yard.
"Marcus and David, this is Detective Vance. Come out with your hands up."
