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CHAPTER 72

Bend, Oregon Friday, August 2, 2024

ELLIS MARGOLIS RAN FROM THE EDGE OF THE VINEYARD AND SAW Sloan Hastings carrying Nora over her shoulder. He fired off another round that caused the women to tumble into the prairie grass. He continued his pursuit and saw Sloan stand from beneath the cattails. He fired again. Running as frantically as he was, there was little chance of hitting his target. The shots were intended to pin them down and prevent them from getting to the house. He’d kill them when he reached them.

He was desperate for this day to be over. He wanted to put an end to it all, call the police, and tell them what he’d discovered—that Lester Strange, the family’s loyal employee, had brought bloodshed to the very family that had supported him over the years. The only explanation, Ellis knew, would be that with the emergence of Sloan Hastings, Lester went on a killing spree to cover his tracks from decades earlier. Ellis would emerge as the lone survivor and fill in any holes the authorities had trouble understanding.

The truth, if he could pull it all off, would remain hidden as it had for the past three decades. Ellis had been embezzling funds from Margolis Margolis for years to cover his opioid addiction. In recent years, his drug abuse had bled into a gambling problem. He had believed, nearly thirty years before on that fateful Fourth of July evening, that the deaths of Preston and Annabelle would forever keep his secret safe. But now Sloan Hastings promised to uncover it all, to dig up the secrets Ellis had buried a lifetime ago. The bloodshed at Margolis Manor was the only way to keep it all hidden. He would find a way in the coming years to compartmentalize even this terrible day.

As he approached the large EVO1 fence post driver, he slowed. The women were here somewhere, and he wasn’t going to allow himself to get close enough for either to attack him. He’d seen the Hastings woman’s muscled physique and would leave nothing to chance. He circled around the big yellow machine, approaching from the front. He heard a moan and recognized Nora’s voice. After another step he found the women lying in the cattails huddled against the machine. A white fabric of some kind was wrapped around Nora’s leg.

“Please, Ellis,” Nora said. “Stop this madness.”

He looked at her with pity. Killing his parents had been difficult. Killing his wife would be the hardest thing he did.

“Did you shoot them, Ellis? Did you shoot your parents. Please, tell me it wasn’t you.”

“Where did the pictures come from, Nora? In the darkroom. Where did those photos come from?”

“Annabelle’s camera. The one I gave her that summer.”

“But who took them, Nora?”

Nora never had the chance to answer. Sloan sprang from the ground and charged at Ellis, putting her shoulder into his midsection. The collision knocked the wind from his lungs and the gun from his hand.