Chapter 5 - The Trap Springs
“Detective,” I said, holding the screen perfectly steady. “Before you put handcuffs on me, I suggest you take a very close look at what happened in my pantry at 4:52 PM yesterday.”
Vance stopped in his tracks. His eyes dropped to the bright glass screen.
The high-definition footage played clearly in front of the entire waiting room.
On the screen, Jenna pulled the brown glass bottle from her pocket, uncapped it, poured the clear poison into the gravy boat, and stirred it. Beside her, Lucas stood watch, checking his watch and signaling that the coast was clear.
A collective, horrified gasp echoed through the lobby.
Celia screamed, dropping her handbag onto the floor. “What is that?! Jenna... what is that?!”
Martin stared at the screen, his mouth hanging open in complete, shattering disbelief. He looked at the video, then looked at his wife standing beside him. “Jenna... what... what did you put in the food? What did you do to my sister?!”
Jenna backed away, her eyes wide with animal panic. “It’s a fake! He edited it! He’s a military computer specialist, he fabricated the video to frame me!”
“Check her left cashmere coat pocket, Detective,” I said, my voice cut from solid granite. “The glass bottle is wrapped in a plastic napkin inside her coat right now. She didn't throw it away at the house because she knew the forensic teams were searching the trash cans.”
Vance didn't hesitate for a single second. He didn't ask questions.
“Officers, secure both of them now!” Vance barked.
The four state troopers lunged forward.
Lucas tried to make a break for the glass exit doors, shoving a news cameraman out of his way, but I stepped into his path like an iron wall.
I caught Lucas by his throat, slamming him face-first against the heavy marble pillar in the center of the lobby. The glass frame of his expensive designer glasses shattered against the stone.
“That’s for my wife,” I growled into his ear, my fingers tightening around his windpipe until his eyes rolled back.
“David, don't!” Vance shouted, pulling his firearm. “Don't kill him! We need him alive for the trial!”
I stared into Lucas’s bulging, terrified eyes for three endless seconds, letting him feel the absolute darkness of the man he had foolishly chosen to cross.
Then, with a cold flick of my wrist, I released him, letting his limp body drop to the linoleum floor, where the troopers instantly pinned his arms behind his back and clicked the steel handcuffs shut.
Jenna shrieked and fought as two female officers forced her down onto the sofa, pulling the brown glass bottle directly out of her coat pocket and sealing it in a biohazard bag.
“Martin! Help me!” Jenna screamed, her hair disheveled, tears smearing her mascara into black tracks down her pale face. “Tell them he’s lying! Martin!”
Martin didn't move. He stood frozen, tears streaming down his face, looking at the woman he had loved for twelve years as if she were a demonic stranger.
“Take them out,” Vance ordered, his voice cold with utter disgust.
As they dragged Jenna and Lucas out through the flashing red lights of the hospital driveway, the lobby fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.
Celia collapsed onto the sofa, sobbing hysterically into her hands, while Martin fell to his knees on the floor, weeping for his dead sister.
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I didn't offer them comfort. I turned my back on them and walked straight toward the pediatric surgical doors.
My children were still fighting. And my job was far from finished.
