The whole of Festac and neighbouring towns soon knew the shocking truth. Richard George hadn't drowned; he had been murdered. The investigation continued as the death was still a mystery.
Harriet, heartbroken over the loss of her only son, had gone without sleep or food for days. She had locked herself in her room.
Anthony spent his mornings pacing the halls, his phone glued to his ear. His voice grew louder and angrier with each conversation.
Racheal sat by the window, watching the rain stream down the glass in long, twisting trails.
And then, the doorbell rang. Anthony hurried downstairs, accompanied by Harriet, as they had seen Inspector Jones entering the compound.
Inspector Jones stood in the doorway, his dark trench coat damp from the morning drizzle. His expression was grim.
"Mr. and Mrs. George," he greeted, his voice even. "I'm deeply sorry for your loss." Jones exhaled. "I know this is a difficult time, but I'm afraid we'll need to ask your daughter some questions. I assure you, it may help us piece together the events surrounding Richard's... untimely passing.
"He paused, his eyes locked on Racheal, who sat frozen, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "May we proceed, Miss. George?
"You'll speak to her here, Inspector. She's in no state to go anywhere." Harriet fumed.
Jones nodded and turned to Racheal, who sat curled on the couch, her fingers clenched in her lap. Jones pulled out a small notepad and clicked his pen.
"When was the last time you saw your brother?"
Racheal's hands trembled. "The day we went for the boat ride."
"Okay but before the boat ride, "Did you notice anything strange about Richard before the boat ride?"
Racheal's head shook slowly. "No…I mean yes," she whispered. her voice was barely audible. "He was secretive, even days before the boat ride, he'd been acting strange." Racheal looked nervously at her mother. "He'd been sneaking out at night," she continued, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Whenever I asked him, he would say he needed some fresh air, it became a frequent thing."
"Do you mean him sneaking out at night?"He cuts in.
yes.." She paused, glancing nervously at her mother.
"Go on," Jones pressed.
"I don't know but he'd been fighting with someone on the phone," she said finally. "A few weeks before the ride, I overheard him on the phone. He sounded angry and he was shouting about money … he said someone had cheated him. He said he wouldn't accept it."
Harriet's face darkened. "This is nonsense. Richard had no enemies. Everyone loved him." Inspector Jones raised an eyebrow. "Everyone?Mrs George, with all due respect, your family's wealth and power could easily breed resentment."
Before Harriet could retort, the door creaked open again.
This time, it was David, Richard's childhood friend. He stood in the doorway, His eyes darted nervously around the space. "Racheal,"he muttered, ignoring the adults in the room. "I need to talk to you. Alone."
Harriet's glare could have frozen fire. "This is not the time, David."
"It's important," he insisted, his voice thick with urgency. "It's about Richard."
Racheal's pulse quickened. She stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "What do you know, David?"
David glanced warily at the Inspector and Harriet. His fingers twitched at his sides. "I… I can't say it here. Not with everyone listening."
Inspector Jones snapped his notebook shut. The sound made David flinch. "Young man," Jones said coolly, if you have any information, you'd better share it now."
David looked trapped, his foot tapping nervously. Finally, he sighed. "Fine. Last month, Richard came to me. He said someone was threatening him. He didn't say who, but he seemed so scared." "Threatening him for what?"Jones cuts in. David rubbed the back of his neck. "He didn't give full details. Just that if he didn't do what they wanted, they'd ruin him."
Harriet wavered on her feet, gripping the armrest of the couch. Her face was pale, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Richard was going through all of this… and he didn't tell anyone?" she whispered.
Jones's gaze was sharp. "Did he mention any names? Anything we can go on?"
David shook his head. "No. But…" He swallowed. "He said they always meet him at the Silent River."
Jones stiffened. "The Silent River? "This is getting deeper than I thought. He turned his piercing gaze toward Racheal.
"Miss George, if Richard truly fell into the Silent River. The Current must have dragged him to where he was picked up by someone who knew about that boat ride." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "Did anyone else know about the boat ride, Miss George?"
Racheal stiffened. Her mind reeled as she tried to recall. Who had she told? Finally, she whispered, "No one. Richard told me not to tell anyone." Her voice trembled as a single tear slipped down her cheek.
After a tense pause, he turned to Harriet. "I'll need access to Richard's room. His belongings might give us something.
Harriet hesitated but finally nodded. "Do whatever you must. Just find out who did this to my son." A deep silence settled over the room. And then, for the first time since Inspector Jones arrived, Anthony spoke.
"I'll take you to his room," he said quietly. When they reached the door, Anthony hesitated for a second before pushing it open.
Richard's scent still lingered. His room was neat, untouched since his disappearance. The bed was made, his books stacked perfectly on his desk, his clothes folded just the way he liked. It was as if he had never left.
Jones stepped inside, his sharp eyes scanning every inch of the space.He moved carefully, pulling open drawers flipping through notebooks, checking under the bed.
Anthony stood by the door, watching in silence. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.
Minutes passed. The room felt suffocating.
Jones finally straightened, letting out a frustrated sigh. "Nothing."
Anthony exhaled, barely masking the tension in his shoulders. "Then what now?"
Jones closed his notepad. "I'll be back." He turned to Anthony, "If anything comes up, call me immediately." Anthony gave a tight nod. "Understood."
Racheal sank back into her seat, replaying every moment from the boat ride, every word Richard had said. Something wasn't adding up. That evening, as the house settled into an uneasy silence, Racheal found herself alone in Richard's room. The scent of his cologne lingered in the air, making her chest tighten. She searched through his desk for anything that might explain what had happened.
Her fingers brushed against a notebook tucked under a pile of papers. She opened it, her breath hitching as she read the words scribbled on the first page: "Trust no one. Not even family".
Her heart raced as she flipped through the pages, finding cryptic notes about meetings, phone numbers, and a name circled repeatedly: "Andrew."
Before she could make sense of it, the door creaked open. She spun around to find her mom standing there.
"What are you doing?" her mother demanded.
Racheal hid the notebook behind her back. "Nothing. Just… looking for answers."
Harriet's eyes narrowed. "Leave it to the police, Racheal. This is not your burden to bear."
As her mother turned to leave, Racheal called out, "Mom?"
Harriet paused, her back still to Racheal. "Yes?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.
Racheal hesitated, gripping the notebook tighter. "Do you know anyone named Andrew?" Harriet's shoulders stiffened. For a moment, she seemed frozen. Then, without turning around, she whispered, "No."
A heavy silence stretched between them. Harriet exhaled sharply, then forced a small, strained smile. "You should get some rest, sweetheart. You've barely slept."
And with that, she left the room, closing the door softly behind her. Racheal let out a slow breath, glancing back at the notebook in her hands.