Chapter 3 - CHAPTER 2: THE ACCIDENT RE-EXAMINED
Patricia’s head snapped toward her husband. "Robert, don't you dare accuse me of something so insane!"
"Answer him, Patricia," Grandma Margaret commanded, her voice dropping into an icy register that commanded total obedience. "Did you know Evan had discovered the theft?"
Detective Miller took a step forward, his hand resting casually near his leather holster. "We pulled the cell phone records from Evan’s phone three days ago when this envelope was discovered, Mrs. Whitmore. Twenty minutes before his car was hit on Route 6, he received a phone call from a burner phone registered in Denver."
Miller pulled a printed sheet of paper from his file.
"The location tower pinged that burner phone right outside the shipping office on 4th Street," Miller said. "And forty-five minutes later, an anonymous call was placed to a local trucking dispatch, warning of a road block near the exact curve where Evan’s car was crushed."
My knees finally gave out. I sank onto the bottom step of the grand staircase, wrapping my arms around Lily, rocking her while tears blurred my vision.
Evan hadn't just died in an unfortunate winter storm. He had been targeted because he tried to protect me and our baby.
"This is ridiculous!" Patricia shouted, her voice rising into a shrill screech. "You can't prove any of this! It was a snowstorm! The semi-truck driver took full responsibility!"
"The driver was paid fifty thousand dollars through an offshore account registered in the Bahamas two days after the funeral," Richard Vance stated calmly, opening his briefcase and laying three audited financial reports onto the dining table. "An account linked directly to Aura Properties."
Robert collapsed into a chair, burying his face in his hands. "My God... Patricia, what have you done?"
"I did it for us!" Patricia snapped, shedding her mask of aristocratic elegance. She turned on her husband, her eyes wild. "Your company was going under, Robert! We were weeks away from losing this house! Do you think Emily could have gone to private college if we lost everything?! Margaret has millions sitting in that trust, doing nothing!"
"That trust was set up by my late husband for Claire and her future!" Grandma Margaret barked, her voice shaking with rage. "Claire’s father—my son—died building that company! That money belonged to his daughter!"
Grandma turned to my mother. "And you, Denise. You enabled this monster to steal from your own daughter? Your own grandchild?!"
Denise dropped to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. "Patricia promised me a share! She said Claire was young, that she could bounce back, that Evan was making plenty of money as an architect! I didn't know Evan was going to die! I swear to God, I didn't know!"
"You didn't know?" I choked out, wiping the tears from my cheeks. "When Evan died, you came to my apartment, Mom. You held me while I cried. You looked at my newborn baby, and then you went back to Patricia's house and shared the $180,000 my grandmother sent to save us!"
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"Claire, please..." Denise reached toward me, but Detective Miller stepped between us.
"Denise Whitmore, Patricia Whitmore," Detective Miller said, pulling two pairs of steel handcuffs from his belt. "You are both under arrest for grand larceny, wire fraud, identity theft, and conspiracy to commit murder."
