The Escape Plan

A long queue of people slowly makes their way past us.

"My condolences."

My husband looks kindly at each mourner with soft blue eyes. "Thank you." His warm voice echoes in my head. This is the man I loved. What happened?

"Your father was such a kind man."

"Thank you." I say automatically, suddenly aware where I am. I sway slightly. My husband puts his arm around me and turns to Gerrard, my father's old butler. "Take her home. It is too much for her. You know what the doctor said." Gerrard bows. "Certainly, Sir!"

I lean heavily on Gerrard as he leads me to the SUV. Well past retirement age now, he was a young labourer when my grandfather built our mansion. After we pull up the drive, he escorts me to my bedroom. At the door, I search his wrinkled and kind face. Can I trust him? But he closes the door and I hear the lock click into place. I'm trapped again. Why am I unable to think clearly?

-

When Gerrard unlocks my door, he says loudly "Dinner is served, Ma'am", but then leans close and whispers. "Don't have wine!" What does he mean? My mind races as I try to understand.

The wine is already poured in a glass at my chair on the opposite end of the large table to where my husband is sitting. I touch neither the wine nor the food.

My husband looks up from his cell phone. "Have some wine!" His eyes are their usual cold blue again.

"No."

He jumps up and dashes next to me.

"Drink!"

I look at him defiantly. He grabs me by the neck and pulls me up.

Suddenly Gerrard opens the dining room door. My husband lets me sink back into my chair. "Not now!"

Without a word, Gerrard leaves.

I gasp for air. "You have everything, the estate, the business! How did you get my father to sign the deeds?

"I offered to let you live."

My mind is suddenly clearer.

"You killed him and you are trying to have me sectioned!"

My husband smirks. "Everyone knows how unstable you are!

-

Gerrard!" My husband waves dismissively in my direction.

Without looking at me, Gerrard takes me back to my room, but before he leaves, he presses something into my hand. "From your father!" As I stare bewildered at the envelope, I hardly notice the door lock click. My father? I rip the envelope and devour my father's ornate handwriting. "My dear darling daughter ....."

-

Then I hear my husband's sports car. He's gone. This is my chance!

I pound on the door. Gerrard opens it immediately. I look at him questioningly. "Just go! Don't worry about me!" I hug him quickly and whisper in his ear. "Thank you."

I race through the house to the garage. The old battered tool box is there. Under the false bottom I find the passport, driver's licence, burner phone and credit cards with my new identity and keys for a relay of cars all the way to Baja. I clutch it all to my chest. "Thank you, dad!"

The SUV hums to life as the garage door opens. I speed down the drive and look in the rear view mirror at the lights illuminating the mansion. My father rescued me from beyond his grave. My fight for his legacy is just beginning.