Chapter Fifty-One: It Must Be Colton

After Gray takes the intruder away, Officer Lopez stays behind and interviews us. You can tell she's drained, just like us. Her facial expressions shift from confusion to anger as we recount what happened. Her long hair, typically in a ponytail, flows past her shoulders and down her back. It's been a relentless year, filled with sleepless nights and constant worry about my family's safety. We lost a neighbor and a former teacher, had a friend's home broken into, and nearly lost our own lives. The ordeal isn't over, and I'm determined to find out who killed Goldie, no matter what it takes. She sacrificed herself to get the truth to me and, by extension, Gray.

As Officer Lopez leaves, I feel the exhaustion creeping in. The days, weeks, and possibly months ahead will be mentally taxing, but I have to stay strong.

Earlier, Leah suggested getting the gardening group together for an upcoming Spring meeting. I'm initially hesitant, considering the recent events, but now it feels like the right thing to do. We need to show our community that we won't let criminals dictate our lives. It's been months since our last meeting, and it's time to reintroduce some semblance of normalcy amidst the chaos and uncertainty.

In the next few days, Brock and I find ourselves caught up in rounds of questioning, first with the uncooperative intruder and then with Jeff regarding the events at his home. But tonight, as we prepare for the gardening group meeting, all I want is to discuss the upcoming season and momentarily set aside the weight of our recent troubles.

Since the arrest of Jeff and the intruder, Gray believes our home is safe. He suspects the intruder is Colton, who has been terrorizing our street for months. The other two involved in Troy's disposal remain elusive, but with Jeff's confession, the truth is now within our reach.

As I stand outside, I notice the sun ascending higher in the sky, signaling the arrival of March and the impending Spring. Utah's chilly climate might persist for a while, but the promise of warmth looms on the horizon. The snow has melted, leaving behind buds on the trees and the cheerful chirping of baby birds.

Since the threat has diminished with the capture of Jeff, Colton, and Grant, I yearn to venture on a walk. However, Gray advises me to remain vigilant for a while longer. I examine my reflection in the mirror and note the emergence of more gray hairs and wrinkles. The past six months have aged us both prematurely.

Since Troy's discovery and the subsequent threats, I've been unable to visit my grandkids in person. We make do with FaceTime, trying to maintain a façade of normalcy, but kids are perceptive. They sense it's not safe here yet. This knowledge fuels my anger, often driving me to the brink and making me want to punch a hole in the wall or confront Jeff himself.

I place the blame squarely on Jeff's shoulders. His wife's affair should have been a matter for personal resolution. Divorce or seek help, but don't resort to murder. Don't orchestrate the disposal of a body, don't issue threats, and certainly don't endanger innocent lives. My initial fear has transformed into a burning anger, a deep-seated resentment towards his reckless actions. How could he be so callous, so willing to destroy lives for his selfish agenda? It's a question that gnaws at me every day.

Since the intruder has been caught, Gray thinks our home is safe now and that this person is Colton who has been terrorizing our street for months now. Even though there were two others involved in the dumping of Troy, there was no direct evidence linking them to the crime. Jeff did tell Gray who was all involved, but it’s been months. The others could be gone by now, or they have no clue (more likely) that Jeff confessed everything, and Gray is looking for them.

I want to go for a walk but haven’t since last September. Gray told me to still be watchful for a while yet, so all threat is gone with the arrest of Jeff, Colton, and Grant at least. When I looked in the mirror this morning, I noticed more gray hairs popping up and wrinkles gracing my face. It’s like Brock and I aged five years in the last six months.

“Hey, whatcha doing out here?” I hear Brock behind me. I turn and smile.

“Just enjoying some sun. I’m so tired of being cooped up, even with it still being cold out here. I want normal to make a comeback,” I chuckle somewhat.

Brock comes toward me and wraps his arms around me. “I feel the same. But, with the intruder in custody and the cards starting to fall, I feel like justice can finally be served. We just have to be patient a little longer, Trice.” He sweeps my hair from my back and rubs it gently. “You know, we make a pretty good team.” I pull back from him.

“Yes, yes, we do. I don’t know what I would have done without you.” I reach up and kiss him, my lips melding with his; I sense a mixed taste of salt and coffee bean, which tastes comforting.  Suddenly, I want to hold onto Brock and not let go. A few times now, he could have been killed. It makes me panic to think that if he dies before me, how I would move on without him. His father died at a young age, and his mother had to, but the stories he told me of her need to work two jobs to make ends meet and then Brock needing to step up and do what his father no longer could do, stressful and put a lot of pressure on a kid who just wanted to enjoy childhood but knew he couldn’t.

“Well, that was unexpected, but I’m not complaining,” Brock says as he pulls his lips away from mine. So, what are your plans for the day? It feels weird not to be going to the office, but it gives me time to fiddle around in the shop. Maybe I’ll clean it up a little.”

I smile. I’ve been asking him to clean it for months, but he was so busy he didn’t have time. Since he’s on a sabbatical for the next month or so, he has plenty of time – well, until the trial starts.

A brisk wind picks up, and I wrap my arms around myself and head back inside. It’s laundry day, and since we have to wait for the court hearing for both Jeff and Colton, who I still believe is the intruder, it’s best to go on as normally as possible.

 The upcoming gardening group meeting and the prospect of reconnecting with friends bring a glimmer of hope. It's time to demonstrate our resilience and show that the actions of criminals won't cow us.

The following days will be challenging, but I'm determined to stay strong. The arrest of Jeff and Colton marks a turning point in our quest for justice. The memory of Goldie's sacrifice continues to inspire me to seek the truth and ensure her legacy lives on.

As I load the laundry, my phone buzzes, and I notice my youngest son's name flashing on the screen. Every time he calls, a pang of anxiety washes over me. My initial thought invariably skews towards some grim scenario, fearing that something terrible may have happened to someone we care about.

“Hey, son,” I say after swiping left to answer.

“Hi, Mom, long time no speak,” he chuckles. It has been a few months since I’ve heard from him. He doesn’t act like anyone is hurt, so I silently thank God.

“Yes, it has been. I was beginning to wonder if you’d fallen off the face of the earth,” I joke.

“No, but we do have some news …” He trails off, and I perk up.

“Ok …?” I match his tone. He’s silent. “Ian Brock Summers, tell me now!”

“Are you ready to become a Grandma again?” My hand flies to my mouth.

“What?”

“Yep, baby number two is finally on the way and healthy.” I want to cry. Ian and his wife, Stephanie, have seen heartbreak after heartbreak when they started trying for baby number two after Clarise turned two. She’s now 6, and after four miscarriages, one when Stephanie was 22 weeks along, it finally happened!

“Ian, I’m so happy! How far along, and when’s she due?”

She’s 19 weeks, and we just had the ultrasound yesterday! We also found out we’re having a boy!” Another grandson to add to the three we already have, and he’s healthy! “Right now, the due date is July 4th!

“Oh, I’m so happy,” and the tears streaming down my face show it.

“We can’t believe how it happened. You know we stopped IVF since it was just too hard on Steph, right?”

“Yeah, you mentioned that last year.”

“Well, we stopped trying, and she didn’t even know she was pregnant until she started to show. We took four tests, and they all showed two very pink lines. We were shocked and scared when we had the ultrasound. He looks absolutely perfect, though; he has my nose and Steph’s lips. We also want to come visit after he’s born in July.”

It suddenly hits me that we never told Ian about Troy or anything else. He lives in South Carolina, and Brock and I figured he didn’t need to know and worry. But now that there will be a trial, it will go on for months. He needs to know, but then I worry he will stay away, and we won’t get to see our new grandson or Clarise, who we haven’t seen in person since she was four. I decide to hold off until I know more.

“Oh, we would love that!”

“Save the date then. Sometime in August, when it’s safe to travel.” We talk a little longer, and I get to say hi to a very excited Clarise talking about her baby brother she will get to see in summer. After, I rush to the shop adjacent to the garage, where Brock is cleaning up. He’s sweeping, kicking up dust.

“You’ll never guess who just called!”

“Gray?”

“No … better. Ian called and they had some news … “ I trail off and realize Ian gets that snarky tone from me.

“And?” He sighs.

“They’re pregnant!!” Brock’s eyes widen, and then he smiles. “It’s a boy and due on July 4th! They just had the ultrasound yesterday and he’s healthy!”

He closes his eyes. “Oh, thank God.”

“I’m so happy for them and us. But they want to come after the baby is born, in August. They don’t know about Troy or anything else. I didn’t have the heart to tell him.”

“That’s right. We didn’t tell him, only Eric. Josh doesn’t even know.” He sits down on his bench with the broom still in his hand.

“Yeah, I begged Eric not to tell his brothers. They didn’t need to know until Jeff was caught and everyone involved charged and in prison.”

‘Yeah, but if this trial goes through the summer, they will know one way or the other. It has to come from us, not the media.”

“I know, but can we wait until we at least have more info and a trial date? We still don’t know who this intruder is, and if it’s not Colton, we’re still in danger. Let’s wait until at least May, OK?”

Brock grits his teeth and he starts to shake his head. “Brock, you know how the boys are, especially Ian. They will overreact and scold us for not saying anything.”

“Yes, but they will do that no matter when we tell them.” He has a point. “Look, let me take care of this. I can talk to them logically, whereas you –“

“Are too emotional,” I finish his sentence.

“Well, yeah. You know how the boys protect you.”

“They are very protective.”

“Yes, so let me handle them, OK?”

“Okay. I just don’t want them to freak out. August is five months out, and by then, the case should be over, right?” I should know better than to ask Brock that. His last case was nearly nine months long.

“Trice, you know I can’t promise that, right?”

“Yeah.” I lower my head, knowing he’s right.

“Tell you what. I’ll wait till April to tell them. A court hearing probably won’t even happen for a few weeks. Once we know more, then we can make a decision on how best to tell them. OK?”

“OK. Thanks, hon.” He got up and walked over to me. I immediately went into his arms. “We’re going to get through this.” Almost as if on cue, my phone buzzes. I pull it out of my pocket and see a text from Gray.

We got a confession – you’re right … it was Colton

“It’s him, Brock.” I show him the message. The flood of tears can’t be held back, and I cry in his arms.

It’s over. It’s finally over.

Chapter Fifty: I Hope We're Not Too Late

 

Two days have passed since the incident, and I find myself watering my houseplants when a sudden knock on my door startles me, causing my heart to race. I consider the possibility of a squad car parked outside, prompting the visitor to knock. Yet, my instincts drive me to check the peephole, and a sense of relief washes over me as I see Leah.

I quickly open the door, and she greets me with an immediate and heartfelt hug. "Oh, I'm so glad you're OK!" I reciprocate, wrapping my arms around her, realizing how much I've missed her. As we pull away, I take in her appearance, noting her yoga pants and the dark red sweater beneath her black pea coat. Her impeccably styled hair still stands out, but I can see the signs of exhaustion in her eyes.

"We're fine, but I'm so sorry about your house," I say, leading her into the living room. I go on to explain that my husband and I were away for our anniversary, and our house had been torn apart during our absence. Leah listens intently as I describe the chaos left behind by the intruders.

"They were either looking for the ring or trying to divert the police's attention," I continue. "But they won't find it because Brock and I already did." I watch Leah's eyes widen as I share the story of how we found the ring and where it is now.

"Wow," she exclaims, visibly surprised. "We got in trouble with Gray, but he didn't arrest us because he knows the ring will bring Jeff down," I explain. Leah's eyes widen even further as she places her hand over her mouth, clearly absorbed in the gravity of the situation.

I go on to reveal more about our encounters with Jeff, including our visit to his home in Long Island, where he tied us up in his guest bedroom. Leah is left speechless by the time I finish my account.

"I can't believe he tried to kill you," she finally says. "It just shows you what someone will do to avoid getting caught."

"I think he's so afraid of losing his family that he would rather risk going to prison than have his wife leave and take the kids," I respond. Leah shakes her head in disbelief.

"You have to be careful. He probably doesn't think he has anything else to lose now that he will be arrested. He may send his goons to exact his revenge."

"Yeah, I know. But, after nearly a year, Troy's murder will finally be solved and possibly Goldie's as well," I reflect.

"I can't believe everything that has happened in the last 9 months. Nothing has ever happened on our street, let alone our neighborhood," Leah says with a concerned look. "I look over my shoulder whenever I go out or leave for somewhere."

"I know, and I'm sorry you got caught up in all this. It wasn't my intention; I hope you know that," I admit with a crack in my voice. "I will never forgive myself if something happens to you."

Leah reassures me, mentioning that she now carries a Glock for protection, even though she once detested guns. Her newfound sense of caution is evident.

Before I can comment further, my phone buzzes in my pocket, and I retrieve it to read the three words on the screen: "We got him."

I share the news with Leah, and she departs, but I can't divulge any details until Jeff has been indicted. Left alone, I sit on the couch, contemplating the recent turn of events. I call Gray to get more information, and what he reveals leaves me in awe.

"Gray, tell me everything," I urge.

"You'll never believe this, Trice, but Jeff turned himself in," Gray shares.

"What?" I exclaim in astonishment.

As Gray continues to provide details, I hang on every word. Jeff's confession and the remorse he's expressed are shocking, and I can't help but feel a mix of relief and sadness. His decision to turn himself in impacts not only him but also his family, especially his children.

"That little girl is smart," I mention, recalling the day we were tied up and the way she had helped us escape without saying a word to her father.

Leah continues to voice her concerns about the remaining co-conspirators and their potential actions.

"I think he's so afraid of losing his family that he would rather risk going to prison than have his wife leave and take the kids," I reflect.

Leah shakes her head in disbelief. "You have to be careful. He probably doesn't think he has anything else to lose now that he will be arrested. He may send his goons to exact his revenge."

"Yeah, I know. But, after nearly a year, Troy's murder will finally be solved, and possibly Goldie's as well," I express with a glimmer of hope.

"I can't believe everything that has happened in the last 9 months. Nothing has ever happened on our street, let alone our neighborhood," Leah says with a concerned look on her face. "I look over my shoulder every time I go out or leave for somewhere."

"I know, and I'm sorry you got caught up in all this. It wasn't my intention; I hope you know that," I admit with a crack in my voice. "I will never forgive myself if something happens to you."

Leah reassures me, mentioning that she now carries a Glock for protection, even though she once detested guns. Her newfound sense of caution is evident.

Before I can comment further, My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I swiftly retrieve it, my eyes fixed on the three words displayed:

"We got him."

I hurriedly inform Leah that I have an appointment, and she leaves. There's an intense need to share this moment, but I remind myself that I can't say anything to anyone until Jeff faces indictment.

I lower myself onto the couch and dial Gray's cell phone number. After several rings, Gray answers, and I waste no time in getting to the heart of the matter.

"Gray, tell me everything," I implore.

His words leave me astounded: "You'll never believe this, Trice, but Jeff turned himself in."

My head flops back against the cushions as I absorb this astonishing revelation.

"Yeah, he walked in and told one of my deputies that he ordered the hit on Troy and tried to kill you and Brock," Gray continues. "He said he knew it was time to confess, especially since he tried killing you guys, and once you escaped, it was just a matter of time before he was arrested. He’s ready to accept the consequences. He also said he was very sorry for what he did, not just to Troy but to you and Brock, in particular. We questioned him for hours and he told us about the affair, the cabin, Troy’s accident, how Grant had poisoned him, and then when you guys came, how he slipped arsenic in your coffees and tied you to the bed. He’s now been arraigned."

I hang on Gray's every word, my emotions ranging from shock to relief.

"He said the guilt was eating at him because his daughter asked why he tied you up and wouldn’t let you leave. He didn’t have an answer. She then asked him what he would do if someone tied her up. He said he knew then he had to turn himself in and make it right, even if it meant he would be imprisoned."

I nod, remembering the cleverness of Jeff's daughter that day and how she played a crucial role in our escape. My initial excitement at Jeff turning himself in starts to wane, replaced by a sense of sadness, knowing that his children will bear the brunt of his choices.

"Yeah, she is," I respond to Gray's mention of Jeff's daughter. "He seemed very remorseful, even cried. He said he didn’t want his kids to think he was a monster. And since we know he didn’t kill Goldie or break into Leah and Trevor’s home, we need to focus on Colton, as he has the most to lose, aside from Jeff. It was his wife’s ring he lost in the same area Troy was dumped. But now that Jeff has confessed and told us about the whole plan, including everyone involved, we can now get them all."

A deep breath escapes me, signaling that it's finally ending. "I still can’t believe he turned himself in just like that. But kids can be very influential."

"That is very true," Gray acknowledges. "He has contacted his attorney, and his court date is Friday." With three more days to go, the anticipation mounts. "You and Brock will need to testify once his trial starts. Are you ready for this?"

Despite the reluctance to relive the trauma and confront the painful details about Goldie, I muster my resolve. "I'm ready, and I will call Brock too. He went to work to alert his team that he was taking a sabbatical until the case was over."

"Okay. You will need to come to the courthouse at 10:00 A.M. on Friday."

"We’ll be there." I bid Gray farewell and toss my phone on the couch, my thoughts racing to process this newfound information. I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them, recognizing that there are still three co-conspirators to locate. We're not out of the woods just yet, but the finish line is finally in sight.

 ------------------------------------------

After I shared what I'd learned with Brock upon his return home, his expression contorted with a mixture of pain and regret. "I'm glad Jeff did the right thing, but he alone destroyed his family. It’s too bad because he seemed to be a good father and loved his kids. Now, they will grow up without him." I watch his face, feeling an overwhelming sense of empathy wash over me. Jeff had been like a fourth son to us, a constant presence in our lives, almost like part of the family. I remembered the time he had mentioned that our game night was what a real family looked like, and it tugged at my heartstrings.

I reach over and embrace Brock, understanding the weight of the forthcoming testimony. "This is going to be hard testifying against him. I never thought he had the capability of murdering someone," I confess. Stepping back, I add, "But now, we need to be more worried about Colton. He’s still looking for the ring, but who knows if he’s still in the city after breaking into Leah and Trevor’s house. I doubt anyone else did it. And once the tests come back with his fingerprints, we will have solid proof. It could take weeks, but Gray can bring in Colton for questioning. I mean, even though he didn’t kill Troy, he did help dump his body."

Brock nodded, his expression a mix of relief and determination. "Thankfully, I’m home for a bit, and we still have police protection. It’s almost over, Trice."

Later that night, after we'd ordered food for delivery and settled into bed, me with a book and Brock engrossed in his iPad, a sudden loud noise pierces the quiet, making me jump. Herc, our loyal dog, starts growling instantly. My head snaps up, and I see Herc's intense gaze fixed on the doorway, ears perked up. Brock, too, had heard it. He reaches into his nightstand drawer, retrieving his gun, and with a tense motion, he cocks it and points it toward the door. My heart races as fear grips me, and I dread what might be on the other side.

Brock climbs out of bed and moves silently toward the door, the gun leading the way. "SHHHH, Herc," he whispers, glancing back at me. "Stay here and close the door behind me."

"Brock, please be careful," I implore, hurrying out of bed to follow him to the door. He ventures out, with the loaded gun guiding his path. I try to keep Herc from following, gently taking hold of his collar, urging him back, and then closing the door. My hands are clammy, and panic surges within me. I could do nothing but wait, hoping it wasn't Colton inside our home and praying for Brock's safety.

I strain to listen through the door but can’t discern anything. To keep Herc from growling, I stroke his ears and whisper soothing words. I briefly contemplate hiding in the bathroom, but then I hear a gunshot echo through the house. Without hesitation, I fling the door open and rush into the hallway.

"Stay down!" Brock's voice reaches me, sounding like he’s in the living room. I hurry down the stairs to find Brock aiming his gun at a figure clad in a black ski mask, jeans, and a hoodie. The intruder clutches his leg, blood gushing from the wound.

"Call Gray," Brock instructs me urgently. Fortunately, my phone, which I had grabbed from the nightstand, is in my hand. I rapidly dial Gray's number.

"Trice?" he answers.

"Someone broke into our home. Brock shot him in the leg."

"Be right over." Click.

"Who are you?" Brock demands.

Silence.

"Listen, you bastard, I'm not afraid to shoot you again."

"Okay, fine."

"Take off the mask."

The intruder complies, revealing a face I don't recognize. His short, spiky sandy brown hair framed deep brown eyes that glare defiantly at Brock. Bulging muscles suggest a frequent gym visitor. "I'm going to bleed out," the man whimpers.

"No, you're not. I barely grazed your leg," Brock retorts. I can see the blood still flowing from the wound, knowing it was more than a graze. The intruder needs medical attention.

"Brock, we have to staunch the blood," I urge, rushing to the bathroom to fetch an old towel. I return and swiftly wrap it around the man's leg, tying it tightly to stem the bleeding.

"What are you doing in our house?" Brock demands, his eyes never leaving the intruder. Before the man can respond, I hear a loud pounding on the front door, followed by Gray's voice announcing his arrival. I rush over and open the door, and Gray, along with Officer Lopez, burst in.

"Are you both OK?" Gray inquires, stepping into the living room and spotting the injured intruder. "Oh shit," he mutters. "Okay, we've got it from here, Brock."

Brock lowers his gun and lets it hang at his side. Gray moves swiftly to secure the intruder, handcuffing his hands behind his back. "Damn, chill out," the man complains.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law..." Gray recites Miranda rights. While Officer Lopez calls 911, Gray attempts to extract information about the intruder's intentions and identity.

The man remains stubbornly silent.

It must be Colton.