Chapter 11 - The Airfield
Police surrounded the private airfield before eleven.
Diane never arrived.
The plane remained grounded.
The pilot claimed he had been hired anonymously.
At 11:42, Detective Cole received a call.
A highway camera had spotted a vehicle matching Diane’s rental car heading east.
Toward the coast.
We were three hours behind her.
Cole refused to let me accompany police.
I refused to remain behind.
Eventually, we compromised.
I traveled in a secured vehicle with Nora and two officers.
The boatyard sat at the edge of a small harbor.
Dad had owned it twenty years ago.
He sold the business but kept one storage building through a trust.
The doors were open when police arrived.
Inside, they found empty crates.
Fresh footprints.
And blood.
Not much.
Enough.
A security camera hung above the entrance.
The recording showed Diane arriving with another man.
Grant Wheeler.
He was supposed to be in custody.
Cole stared at the screen.
Then her phone rang.
A transport officer had been found unconscious in a hospital bathroom.
Grant escaped while being taken for treatment after claiming severe chest pain.
He had never stopped working his own angle.
The camera footage showed Diane and Grant arguing.
No audio.
Grant pointed toward the storage room.
Diane slapped him.
He grabbed her wrist.
Then both disappeared inside.
Twenty minutes later, Grant emerged alone.
His shirt was stained with blood.
He drove away in Diane’s car.
Diane did not come out.
Police searched the storage building.
No body.
A hidden exit led to the shoreline.
Diane could have escaped by boat.
Or Grant could have taken her somewhere else.
Inside a metal cabinet, we found an old map.
Dad had drawn several X marks along the coast.
One was circled.
An island less than five miles offshore.
Dad had once joked that it was his “retirement kingdom.”
It was barely large enough for a cabin.
But according to property records, he still owned it when he died.
Cole requested marine units.
Before they arrived, a call came through dispatch.
A fisherman had seen smoke near the island.
Then an explosion shook the horizon.
I could see the orange glow from the shore.
Nora grabbed my arm.
Police boats raced toward the island.
By the time we reached the dock, flames had consumed part of the cabin.
Officers found Grant near the shoreline.
Alive.
Bleeding from his shoulder.
He claimed Diane shot him.
Cole demanded to know where she was.
Grant laughed weakly.
“She finally found the money.”
“What money?”
Grant pointed toward the burning cabin.
“Not four million.”
May you like
He smiled.
“Forty.”
