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Chapter 7 - The Dead Judge

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Before the detective could read Daniel his Miranda rights, his cell phone erupted with a shrill ring. The officer frowned, checked the caller ID, and stepped out into the hallway, keeping one hand resting cautiously on his holstered weapon.

We waited in a suffocating silence. Vivian was weeping into her hands in the corner, while Daniel continued to stare at me, his mind clearly racing to find a loophole, an exit, any way out of the concrete box I had just built around him.

A minute later, the detective stepped back into the room. His expression had completely changed. The standard professionalism was gone, replaced by a grim, hard edge.

He looked directly at Daniel. "Judge Malcolm Reed was found dead in his parked car twenty minutes ago. Gunshot wound to the head. It's being staged as a suicide, but nobody's buying it."

For the first time since the video played, Daniel smiled.

It wasn't a nervous smile. It wasn't a facade. It was a dark, triumphant, terrifying grin that stretched from ear to ear.

"You think those little video files protect you, Caroline?" Daniel said softly, ignoring the officers tightening their grip on his arms. "You think you're the smartest person in the room? You have absolutely no idea what your father actually built—or why he died."

My physical pain vanished, swallowed instantly by a freezing, hollow sensation in my chest. My father’s sudden death two years ago had been ruled a massive heart attack. It was the tragedy that had made me vulnerable enough for Daniel to completely take over my life.

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Daniel leaned close as the officers finally began pulling him toward the door.

"Ask your best friend," Daniel sneered, nodding toward Lena. "Ask Dr. Ortiz who signed the original, falsified autopsy report."

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