Chapter 4

"Sheriff, thank God you're here!" Brian exclaimed as a county sheriff's vehicle pulled up, lights flashing.

Brian, the slick lodge manager, immediately took control, his voice dripping with false sincerity. He strode over to Sheriff Miller, a man I' d known for twenty years.

"It's Jennifer," Brian said, his voice low and grave. "She hasn't been right since my brother, her husband, passed away. The pressure... the isolation... it finally broke her."

He handed a folder to the sheriff.

"I've been worried for months. Look at this."

He showed Miller a series of photographs. They were expertly photoshopped. One showed me seemingly asleep at my post. Another showed a fire safety report with my forged signature, dated a week ago, claiming all was well.

The final image was a map of the lodge grounds, with a bright red circle around my cabin.

"The fire started there," Brian declared, pointing. "She's jealous of the guests, of their wealth, their families. She resented them. You heard the recording."

The families, who had been held back by a mix of confusion and awe just moments before, now surged forward.

"Murderer!" one man spat.

"She tried to kill my mother!" a woman shrieked, her face contorted with hate.

They looked ready to tear me apart right there. Sheriff Miller and his deputy had to physically hold them back.

I stood my ground, my expression unreadable.

I let their rage wash over me, a familiar, cold tide.

Then, I spoke, my voice cutting through the chaos, clear and steady.

"If you kill me now," I said, looking directly at the angriest of the family members, "you'll never know who really tried to murder your parents."

The crowd quieted, their fury momentarily checked by my words.

I turned to Sheriff Miller, who was watching me with a troubled, uncertain expression.

I pulled out my own phone.

"Sheriff," I said. "Before you arrest me, you need to see this."