Chapter 9 - The Panic|
Watching Daniel unravel on the screen sent a shockwave of twisted satisfaction through me. For years, he had been the calm, collected architect of my misery. Now, he looked like a cornered animal.
“Turn up the audio,” Carter ordered.
The burly man tapped the screen, and Daniel’s voice hissed through the speaker.
“What do you mean she’s not in the bed, Mom?!” Daniel was screaming into his phone. “The nurse said she was transferred to ICU! Now they’re telling me she was signed out by a private military contractor?!”
I heard Patricia’s muffled voice on the other end, trying to soothe him, but Daniel wasn’t having it.
“No, you listen to me!” Daniel shouted, sweeping a vase off the entryway table. It shattered against the hardwood floor. “If she’s not dead, and she gets a blood test, we are both going to prison! The insurance agent won’t process the claim without a death certificate!”
Carter looked at me. “We have him. That’s a full confession to fraud and attempted murder.”
“Not yet,” I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline pounding in my ears. “If we arrest him now, his lawyers will claim he was under extreme emotional distress, talking nonsense because his wife is missing. He’ll post bail in an hour.”
“She’s right,” the burly man agreed. “We need the physical evidence. The poison. The tea.”
I grabbed Carter’s arm. “The tea tin. He keeps a special silver tin in his home office, locked in the bottom drawer. He said it was an heirloom from his grandfather. That’s where he keeps the loose leaf tea he makes for me.”
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Carter nodded slowly. “If we can get that tin, the tox lab can match the arsenic signature directly to Patricia’s purchase.”
“There’s one problem,” I said, pointing at the tablet screen where Daniel was furiously packing a duffel bag. “He’s going to get Lily from school. If he realizes the gig is up, he’s going to run.”
