Melanie gasped. Lucas froze, his arms slowly lifting into the air.
“You thought my father was weak because his mind failed him,” I said, my voice cutting through the room like a razor. “You thought I was weak because I loved you. You took my inheritance, you tried to steal my life, and you thought you could burn the truth away in a metal trash can.”
“Anne, put the gun down,” he pleaded, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. “We can talk about this. The money—you can have all of it! I won’t touch a cent. Just put it down.”
“The money was never yours,” I whispered. “And neither was I.”
Siren wails echoed in the distant desert air, growing louder, multiplying, closing in from every direction.
Miriam had done her job.
Lucas’s eyes widened in sheer, helpless panic as red and blue lights began to flash against the high windows of the room.
