Chapter 8 - “Who did you see, sweetheart?”Emma looked at me.
“Aunt Rachel.”
I knelt beside her.
“What did she do?”
“She was crying.”
“Where?”
“In the kitchen.”
“Then what happened?”
Emma looked at Mark.
Uncle Mark.
Her father.
The man she had always trusted.
“She gave somebody something.”
“What?”
“A little bottle.”
Mark went pale.
“To whom?”
Emma pointed at him.
“You.”
Silence.
I turned toward my husband.
Mark shook his head.
“No.”
Emma began crying.
“Daddy, you said I wasn't supposed to remember.”
I stared at him.
“What did you say to her?”
Mark stepped back.
“I never gave her anything.”
Emma cried harder.
“Before my birthday you came into my room.”
I felt my heart pounding.
“What happened?”
Mark looked at the floor.
“I warned her.”
“About what?”
“That there were bad people watching the house.”
I looked at Emma.
“Did Daddy give you a bottle?”
“No.”
“Then why does she think he did?”
Mark finally answered.
“Because someone wanted her to.”
Detective Hayes entered the room.
She had spent the morning digging through Mark's records.
She placed a document on the bed.
“Mr. Carter purchased a life insurance policy six months ago.”
I looked at Mark.
“You never told me.”
“I forgot.”
“You forgot a million-dollar policy?”
“It wasn't supposed to matter.”
“Whose name is the beneficiary?”
He didn't answer.
Detective Hayes did.
“Your wife.”
My blood froze.
“What?”
Mark said nothing.
Detective Hayes continued.
“The policy was increased two weeks before the birthday.”
I stared at him.
“You increased my life insurance?”
“No.”
“Then whose?”
She turned the paper.
Emma’s name was listed as secondary beneficiary.
I felt sick.
“What is going on?”
Mark finally cracked.
“I was trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
“From Malcolm.”
“By taking out insurance?”
“No.”
He rubbed his face.
“Because Malcolm told me someone was planning to kill me.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“So you increased the policy?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
Mark looked at Detective Hayes.
“Eleanor.”
I frowned.
“Why would Eleanor increase a policy on your life?”
“Because she wanted me dead.”
The room went silent.
Then Detective Hayes's phone rang.
She answered.
“Detective Hayes.”
Her expression changed.
“Yes.”
A pause.
“Where?”
Another pause.
“Understood.”
She ended the call.
“Daniel Price has been found.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Inside a storage facility outside the city.”
Mark whispered:
“He's going to talk.”
We arrived an hour later.
Daniel was sitting inside an interrogation room.
Thin.
Exhausted.
A scar crossed his cheek.
The same scar Emma had described.
Smoke clung to his clothes.
I looked at him.
“You were inside my house.”
Daniel nodded.
“I was.”
“Why?”
“To stop what was supposed to happen.”
“You watched Emma?”
“Yes.”
“Did you drug her?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
Daniel stared at Mark.
“He did.”
I felt my knees weaken.
Mark stepped forward.
“No.”
Daniel's voice remained calm.
“Your husband didn't put the sedative in the lemonade.”
I exhaled.
Then Daniel continued.
“He put it somewhere else.”
“Where?”
“In the insulin refrigerator at the hospital.”
Detective Hayes stared.
“Why?”
Daniel leaned forward.
“Because he thought someone was going to kill a patient.”
“Which patient?”
Daniel's eyes moved to me.
“Emma.”
The room went silent.
Then he whispered:
May you like
“Your daughter's collapse was not supposed to happen at the party.”
“It was supposed to happen at the hospital.”
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