Chapter 7: Heavy Footsteps

The silence in the house stretched, thick and oppressive. Richard sat hunched on the bench, Aunt Beatrice beside him, her face a mask of quiet contemplation. David stood by the kitchen counter, avoiding everyone’s gaze.

Then, a sharp, authoritative knock echoed through the front door.

*Thump. Thump. Thump.*

The sound vibrated through the old house, cutting through the heavy quiet. It was too loud, too insistent, to be a casual visitor.

Richard’s head snapped up. His eyes, still red from the revelations, widened in sudden panic.

Another round of knocks, louder this time.

*Thump. Thump. Thump.*

I saw the recognition dawn on Richard’s face. The police. The ones he had called, forty minutes ago, to remove me from what he believed was *his* house.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He glanced at the open safe, then at the various documents scattered across the dining table. His carefully constructed reality was not just crumbling; it was now about to be scrutinized by official eyes.

Aunt Beatrice shifted, looking towards the front door with a nervous frown. Even David, usually so unflappable, looked apprehensive.

Richard slowly stood up from the bench, his movements stiff. He looked at me, a silent plea in his eyes, as if begging me to make them disappear.

But the knocking came again, even heavier, followed by a clear, modulated voice from the other side of the door.

“Police! Hello? Is anyone home?”

Richard’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, trapped by the very trap he had set.