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pulled the trigger. The gun exploded in the dark night and suddenly the candle was doused, the group thrown into total darkness. Only a cry in the night could be heard, chilling them all.

Marc couldn't believe all he'd witnessed.

Ten years ago Elissa Saunders had been murdered in cold blood.

Tonight, she'd been killed again.

* * * *

When the lights were turned back on, there was no blood to be found anywhere, not on the walls or on the floor, there was no dead body. There was also no sign of Danvers Converse.

Rich North's heart was still pounding, even though he'd known it was all a fake. The gun had been fake, the bullets blank, Rose's performance as eerily perfect as it could have been. The truth of that night was out, finally. As nervous chatter erupted in the room, Rich helped Parker get George Saunders back into his wheelchair, all while Rose attended to the old man to ensure he had not severely injured himself. He appeared none the worse for wear, except for a swelling bruise on his arm from when he fell. Yet he had retreated back inside his own private world, perhaps the memory of all those years ago being dragged up was too much for his mind. Drool slipped out of his mouth; George Saunders, the man, was gone.

But it was Troy, still on the ground, who was panting heavily, tears streaming down his cheeks. “All this time, they told me I did it. . . they told me I shot my mother,” he said, “My God, my own family, how deep is their betrayal. . .?”

Rich watched as Paolo went to the young Saunders heir, holding him. He knew the two of them had been intimate, Paolo had admitted as such, but from where Rich stood there was more to these two men than just the physical. Perhaps Paolo had found someone to move on with.

As the situation at Number Two settled down, it was Edgar who stood up and said, “Ok, can anyone explain what we've just seen? I mean, what does this all this mean for us, why were we here?”

Rose took center stage, then said, “Boys—Parker, Rich, you want to tell the group?”

Rich and Parker flanked her, both of them staring at the wide eyes of their neighbors.

“It was time to push the envelope,” Rich said, “and the only way to get the answers was for me and Parker to work together. To put aside our differences for the common good. I called him this morning, after Jack and I had gone to see old man Saunders. We got George talking, told him all that Danvers had been doing, how the Eldon Court that had been established by his ancestors—namely Drew Saunders—was in jeopardy. I'm not sure what did it, but George seemed lucid, and he confessed that he'd done something terrible and for the past ten years he'd been living with it, the memories trapped inside his mind. Elissa Saunders was killed—shot—years ago, her body buried in secret. No one ever questioned her disappearance, both George and Danvers were powerful men then and they both claimed Elissa had left town, taking young Troy with her. In fact, Troy was squirreled away at Danvers's home down the coast, living there in near isolation.”

“They said I did it,” Troy said. “They held it over my heads all these years. They let me believe I killed my own mother.”

“When in fact,” Rich continued, “it was Danvers who killed her, and not in self-defense.”

“Parker, dear. . .” Rose said, turning to her son. “I'm sorry. . . but I warned you.”

“Warned him about what?”

Parker shook his head, pushing her away. “Danvers Converse promised me the Saunders estate after George died—everything, his money, and this house, the Bayside, telling me I was the only rightful heir, and that if Troy tried to stop it his secret would be revealed, that he was a murderer and would be up away for life for the crime. If he had no rightful claim to the estate, I, Parker St. John, could finally claim my heritage.”

“But Danvers, of course, knew the truth,” Rich said, “and he manipulated Parker.”

“So, you are my brother?” Troy asked.

“Brother, ha” Parker spat, his words angry. “I've got nothing; I'm just a bastard child. I can claim nothing; I've lost it all. I lost my self-respect, I lost out on everything. . . and everyone, I ever cared about. . . damn Danvers Converse. . . damn him all to hell. . .”

Parker started off toward the door, Rose calling out to him.

“Parker, no. . . come back, don't do anything foolish,” she said.

But it was too late, Parker was gone, his body fleeing down the street and disappearing into the darkness. His departure left the gang from Eldon Court weary, uncertain about what to do next.

“What next?” was indeed the next phrase to come out of Dane's mouth.

“Yeah, if Danvers Converse is a murderer and we can prove it, then isn't the threat over? We get to keep our homes, Eldon Court stays intact.”

“That's the problem,” Rich said, “Proving it. We know they buried Elissa, but where?”

“Somewhere on the property,” Edgar said, “that has to be why Parker was digging. The story about gold on our property was just a ruse. Can't we call in the police? We have probable cause, perhaps with testimony from Troy as to what happened that night. . .?”

“I'll do anything I can,” Troy said, “but they never told me where she was, said it was for my own good.”

“Nothing Danvers did was for your own good,” Paolo said.

“And to think, I thought he was protecting me all these years,” he said, gazing around at the house. “But now I'm home, I'm innocent, a burden lifted.”

“So it's not over yet,” Marc said, “Rich, what do we do?”

“All of you, stay put,” Rich said, grateful that Marc was talking to him, his eyes filled with wonder at all he'd helped accomplish today.

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