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As they sat in the quiet bedroom, Jackson found serenity in Turk’s company. He worked through his feelings about his connection to the Waverlys and grew even more secure in his identity as Martha and David Reynolds’ son.
* * *
As Liv began to piece together the puzzle in her mind, a realization struck her. “Brad, we need to find where Emily Moore lived before she went into the home. I worked a fire scene in Parkside Woods. There were hot burn spots.” She hit her heel of her hand against her forehead. “He was figuring out how much white phosphorous to use.”
As she voiced her suspicions aloud, Turk and Jackson came down the stairs, Jackson’s expression grim. “We need to walk the area. But I’d guess the next target would be the Waverly estate,” he confirmed. “The house and surrounding woods would be a helluva finale.”
“I’ll call Lamply, have an engine dispatched to the estate,” Turk said.
“Lamply. Wasn’t he on the council in 1979?” Jackson asked.
“One more target,” Liv whispered. She wasted no time in alerting the police to the potential arson target, while Turk stepped into the other room to call the chief to dispatch an engine to the estate and to his home.
Liv swished her jaw.
Jackson asked, “Livvy, what’s wrong?”
“It doesn’t fit. None of the victims have been killed where the fires were set,” she insisted.
“Liv, you were right. Emily Moore had a small home in Parkside Woods,” Brad said.
“That’s where he killed them,” Liv whispered.
Turk returned, looking ill. “Lamply’s secretary said the chief left with Detective Wheaton an hour ago.”
* * *
In the small empty room in Emily Moore's home, Michael Wheaton stood, his gaze fixed on Chief Lamply, who was bound to a chair.
Michael adjusted the camera he had set up, ensuring it captured every moment of their interaction. With a steady hand, he pressed record and began to speak, his voice firm and resolute. “Hello, Liv. By the time you receive this recording, you'll know the truth. Chief Lamply here is responsible for the murder of your dad, Chuck Everhart.”
Lamply's eyes widened in disbelief at Michael's accusation. “You have no proof,” he spat, his voice laced with defiance.
Michael stepped closer, his eyes burning with determination. “Oh, but I do. You see, I know about the fire you set to silence David Reynolds. Chuck wasn't meant to die that night, but you made sure he did.” He held up a file. “I spent hours looking at the video taken by the news people, the witness statements. I put it all together.”
Lamply's façade crumbled, his shoulders slumping in defeat as the weight of his guilt bore down on him. “I had to do it,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I had to protect myself and my reputation.”
Michael shook his head in disgust, his fists clenched at his sides. “You let an innocent man die to save yourself. You're nothing but a coward. Like everyone else on that council. A council who protected their crimes by hurting others.”
As Michael continued to record, he watched as Chief Lamply hung his head in shame, the truth of his actions finally catching up to him.
With the recording complete, Michael turned off the camera, knowing Liv would soon have the answers she needed. As he loaded his weapon, the perimeter alarm rang. He laughed. “A perfect end to you. The others went with a bullet. You will aptly go with a fire.” He slipped out the back door.
Thirty-Two
Liv and Jackson stood face to face, their voices raised in a heated exchange. Liv's determination to breach Emily's home before the arrival of SWAT and the fire department clashed with Jackson's growing concern for their safety.
“We can't just wait around while Michael might have my Uncle Fred in there, possibly dying,” Liv cried.
Jackson's fists clenched at his side, frustration evident in his voice. “And what if this is exactly what Michael wants? What if it's a trap?”
Liv shook her head, her resolve unwavering. “Uncle Fred's life could be in danger, and I won't sit back and do nothing!”
Turk stepped forward, attempting to defuse the tension between them. “Liv, Jackson has a point. We need to approach this carefully. We don't know what we're walking into.”
But Liv was adamant, her eyes flashing with determination. “I understand the risks, but I can't just stand by and wait.”
Jackson's frustration boiled over, his voice rising to a shout. “And what about your safety? What about the safety of everyone else involved?”
