Chapter 24 - The Cold Water of the Hudson
The sleet had transformed into a blinding sheet of ice. Evelyn’s cane slipped on the frozen metal grating of the barge gangway, her bad leg buckling. She hit the wooden deck hard, the breath tearing from her lungs in a sharp gasp of pain.
“Evie!” Celeste dropped beside her, her hands raw and bleeding from the cold, hauling Evelyn upright with a strength born of pure adrenaline. “Get inside the wheelhouse! The engine keys are in the lock!”
From the top of the concrete embankment forty feet above them, flashlight beams cut through the blizzard. A figure in an ivory cashmere coat appeared at the edge of the dock—Patricia, her face contorted in maniacal rage, holding a fresh semiautomatic pistol handed to her by a surviving bodyguard.
“Celeste!” Patricia screamed through the howling wind. “Throw the folder into the water, and you can come home! Throw it in, or you die with her!”
Celeste froze, staring up at the woman who had orchestrated twenty-nine years of lies, luxury, and manipulation. The manila folder was tucked securely under Celeste’s arm.
“Celeste, give it to me,” Evelyn whispered, struggling to pull herself up against the wheelhouse door.
Celeste looked down at Evelyn, then up at Patricia. Tears froze on her cheeks. “You told me it was just a joke, Mother,” Celeste screamed into the gale, her voice breaking with decades of repressed agony. “You told me she was taking Julian away from me! But you didn't care about my wedding! You just wanted the money!”
Celeste raised the folder high above her head—and threw it straight through the open doorway into Evelyn’s lap inside the wheelhouse.
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“Turn the key, Evelyn!” Celeste shrieked, throwing her body across the wheelhouse door to shield the glass.
Patricia fired three rapid shots. The thick marine glass cracked into spiderweb patterns. Celeste gasped, her body jolting violently against the doorframe, a dark blossom of crimson spreading across the shoulder of her army parka.
