Blackwood

The Gun in Arthur's Hand

The cabin was small and cold.

George stood frozen near the doorway. Arthur stood across the room, his gun aimed at George's chest. Maya was off to the side, her hand hovering near her own weapon. Julian sat on the couch, his wrists bound, his face pale.

No one moved.

Arthur's eyes were hard. Not angry. Not scared. Just hard. Like he'd been planning this moment for a long time and finally had the chance to execute it.

"You look surprised, George," Arthur said. "That's funny. You're supposed to be the smart one."

George kept his hands visible. "Put the gun down, Arthur. We can talk about this."

"Talk?" Arthur laughed. It was a hollow sound. "I've been talking for forty-two years. Talking and nodding and smiling while Dad gave everything to Vincent. While you ran away and left me to clean up the mess."

"You're the one who called me here."

"Because I needed a witness. Someone who would believe Dad was the victim. Someone who would help me bury Elizabeth's story before it destroyed everything." Arthur's gun didn't waver. "But you couldn't just play along, could you? You had to dig. Had to find the study. Had to meet with Elizabeth."

"What did you expect? You asked me to come home."

"I expected you to be stupid. Instead, you were dangerous." Arthur glanced at Maya. "She told me you were smart. I didn't believe her."

Maya spoke. "Arthur, this isn't the plan."

"The plan changed."

"The plan changed when George found the study. But this—" Maya gestured at the gun. "This is how we get caught."

"Then we won't get caught." Arthur stepped closer to George. "Here's what's going to happen. George is going to sit down. He's going to listen. And then he's going to help us finish what we started."

George didn't move. "What did you start?"

Arthur nodded at the couch. "Sit down, George."

George sat.

The cabin was a single room. Wooden floors, a stone fireplace, a small kitchen in the back. The windows were covered with blankets. The only light came from a kerosene lamp on the table.

Arthur pulled a wooden chair across the room and sat facing George. The gun stayed in his hand, resting on his knee.

"You want to know what I started?" Arthur said. "I started saving this family. From Dad. From Vincent. From you."

"How is holding a gun on me saving the family?"

"Because you're the only one who can stop me. And you don't even know it."

Arthur leaned forward. The lamplight caught the lines on his face. He looked older than his forty-two years. Tired in a way that went deeper than lack of sleep.

"Dad built this company on lies," Arthur said. "Bribes. Fraud. Things that would put him in prison for the rest of his life. I found out ten years ago. I was supposed to take over. Be the next Blackwood heir. But I couldn't. Because the company was built on sand."

"So you started moving money."

"Someone had to. If I didn't, the creditors would have taken everything. The family would have lost the estate, the investments, everything Dad stole." Arthur's voice was calm. Reasonable. "I was protecting us."

"You were stealing."

"I was redirecting. Taking money from accounts that would be seized and putting it into accounts that wouldn't." Arthur shook his head. "You're an accountant, George. You know the difference between embezzlement and asset protection."

"I know the difference between legal and illegal. What you did was illegal."

"Maybe. But it kept the family afloat."

George looked at Julian. His father's face was hard to read. He wasn't looking at Arthur. He was looking at the floor.

"Dad knew," George said. "He knew you were moving money."

"Dad asked me to do it. He was scared, George. Scared of what would happen when the truth came out. Scared of Vincent. Scared of Mom." Arthur laughed again. "Dad's been scared his whole life. He just hid it behind the money."

Julian looked up. "I was protecting you."

"You were protecting yourself." Arthur's voice turned cold. "You let Mom rot in that room for eight years. You let Vincent believe he was a failure. You let George walk away and never looked back."

"I did what I had to do."

"No. You did what was easy." Arthur stood up. "And now I'm going to do what's hard."

He walked to the window and pulled back the blanket. Dark trees pressed against the glass.

"Maya," Arthur said. "Bring the car around."

Maya didn't move. "Arthur—"

"Bring the car around."

Maya looked at George. For a moment, her mask slipped. George saw something in her eyes—regret, maybe. Or warning.

She left the cabin.

The door closed behind her.

Arthur turned back to George. "Maya's been with me for two years. Since I found out what Dad did to Mom. She helped me plan everything. The money. The kidnapping. The fake ransom demands."

"Why?"

"Because she loves Mom. Did you know that? Maya has been in love with Eleanor for twenty years. She watched Dad poison her. Watched him lock her away. And she couldn't do anything about it. Until I gave her the chance."

George's mind raced. Maya and his mother? It made sense now. The way Maya looked at Eleanor. The way she protected her.

"So you and Maya took Dad to keep him quiet."

"We took Dad to keep him alive. Elizabeth was going to kill him. She had a plan—make it look like a suicide. Blame it on the stress of the missing money." Arthur sat down again. "I couldn't let that happen. No matter what Dad did, he didn't deserve to die."

"And Vincent?"

"Vincent is an i***t. He's been trying to destroy the company for years because he thought Dad stole his birthright." Arthur shook his head. "Vincent doesn't care about the family. He never has. He just cares about winning."

George looked at his brother. Really looked at him.

Arthur wasn't a villain. He was a man who'd made terrible choices for reasons that made sense to him. He was trying to protect a family that was already destroyed.

"What do you want from me?" George asked.

Arthur's face softened. Just a little.

"I want you to understand. I want you to see that I'm not the bad guy. I'm just the one who stayed." Arthur put the gun on the table between them. "I'm tired, George. I'm tired of lying. Tired of hiding. Tired of being the only one who cares."

"So stop."

"I can't. If I stop, everyone goes to prison. Dad. Maya. Me. Even you, for helping me."

"I didn't help you."

"You will. Before tonight is over, you'll help me. Because if you don't, I'll make sure Elizabeth goes down with us. And Christopher. And that little girl in the photographs—Abigail." Arthur's voice was quiet. "I've been collecting evidence on everyone for years. I know where the bodies are buried. Literally."

George felt cold. "What bodies?"

Arthur didn't answer.

The cabin door opened. Maya stepped inside.

"Car's ready," she said.

Arthur stood up and picked up the gun. "We're taking Dad back to the estate. George, you're coming with us. You're going to help me rewrite the narrative. Dad was kidnapped by Elizabeth. You and I rescued him. Vincent was involved, but we're giving him a chance to come clean."

"And if I refuse?"

Arthur aimed the gun at Julian. "Then Dad dies. And I tell the police you killed him."

"You'd kill your own father?"

"I'd do whatever it takes to protect this family." Arthur's voice was steady. "Even if that means destroying it first."

George looked at Julian. His father's eyes were wet.

"Do it," Julian said. His voice was hoarse. "Shoot me. It's better than what you've already done."

Arthur's hand tightened on the gun.

Maya stepped between them. "No. This isn't why we started. We started to save Eleanor. To give her justice."

"This is justice."

"This is murder." Maya looked at George. "Take him. Take your father and go. I'll hold Arthur."

George didn't hesitate. He crossed the room, grabbed Julian's arm, and pulled him off the couch. His father's hands were still bound, but he could walk.

Maya moved toward Arthur. "Put the gun down, Arthur."

"Get out of my way, Maya."

"I can't do that."

Arthur's face twisted. For a moment, George saw the man his brother could have been—if things had been different. If their father had been honest. If their mother had been present. If the money hadn't poisoned everything.

Then Arthur's face hardened.

"Fine," he said.

He turned the gun toward Maya.

The shot was loud in the small cabin.

Maya fell.

George didn't wait to see where she was hit. He pulled Julian through the door and into the darkness.

Behind him, he heard Arthur screaming.

And then another shot.

---

The woods were cold and dark.

George ran, half-dragging Julian, stumbling over roots and rocks. His father was heavy—too heavy. The old man's legs gave out twice. Each time, George pulled him back up.

"They're going to find us," Julian gasped. "Arthur knows these woods. He grew up here."

"Then we need to get to the road."

"The road is half a mile. We won't make it."

George stopped. He looked back at the cabin. Lights were on inside. He couldn't see Arthur. Couldn't hear him anymore.

"Where's the closest house?" George asked.

"Nothing for miles. This is conservation land. Arthur bought it five years ago. No one knows it's here."

George's mind raced. No phone. No car. No help.

Then he remembered.

Maya's car. The keys were still in the ignition. He'd seen her leave them when she went inside.

"Stay here," George said.

"Where are you going?"

"To get the car."

He ran back toward the cabin. The door was still open. He could see Maya's body on the floor. She wasn't moving.

Arthur wasn't there.

George ran to the car. The keys were in the ignition. He got in, started the engine, and drove toward the spot where he'd left Julian.

His father was already there, leaning against a tree.

George stopped the car. Julian climbed in.

They drove.

The road was narrow and winding. George didn't know where he was going. He just knew he had to get away.

Behind them, the cabin lights disappeared in the darkness.

Julian was quiet for a long time. Then: "Maya?"

"Shot. I don't know if she's alive."

Julian closed his eyes. "She loved your mother more than I ever did."

"Don't."

"It's true. I was a terrible husband. A terrible father. I don't expect you to forgive me."

"I don't forgive you."

"I know." Julian opened his eyes. "But you saved me anyway. That makes you a better man than me."

George didn't answer.

They drove in silence.

Twenty minutes later, they reached the highway. George turned toward Providence.

"We need to get to Elizabeth's apartment," he said. "Mom is there."

"No. We need to go to the police."

"The police are on Arthur's side."

"Not all of them. There's a detective—Evelyn Reid. She's been investigating the family for months. Arthur doesn't know about her."

George looked at his father. "How do you know about her?"

"Because I'm the one who tipped her off."

Julian reached into his shirt and pulled out a burner phone.

"I've been building a case against Arthur for two years," Julian said. "He doesn't know it. But I've been recording everything. The money. The threats. The way he treated your mother." Julian's voice cracked. "I wanted to stop him. But I was scared. And now Maya is dead because of me."

"She's not dead. We don't know that."

"She's dead." Julian's eyes were wet. "I saw the way she fell. She's dead, George. And it's my fault."

George pulled the car to the side of the road.

He sat there for a long moment, breathing.

Then he took the burner phone from his father's hand and dialed 911.

"Providence Police. What's your emergency?"

"My name is George Blackwood. I need to report a shooting. At a cabin on conservation land, about thirty minutes north of Providence. I don't know the exact address."

"Sir, is anyone injured?"

"A woman. Maya Chen. She's been shot. I need an ambulance and police."

"Sir, stay on the line—"

George hung up.

He handed the phone back to Julian.

"Now we go to Elizabeth's apartment," George said. "We get Mom. And then we go to the police together."

Julian nodded.

George pulled back onto the highway.

The sky was starting to lighten in the east.

Dawn was coming.

But the nightmare wasn't over.