Chapter 5: The Detective's Shadow
Detective Vance's heavy footsteps echoed against the white tile floor as he advanced into the living room. His sharp eyes absorbed every detail: the abandoned red stiletto, the spreading pool of blood, Elena’s panicked posture, and the scattered photographs near the mahogany console.
"Nobody move," Detective Vance instructed smoothly, resting his hand casually near the leather holster on his hip. He pulled out a pair of latex gloves from his trench coat pocket and snapped them onto his hands.
Marcus stood frozen in the doorway, the front door still wide open letting in the damp night air. "Detective, how did you get here so fast? I haven't even called the police yet."
Vance knelt beside Clara, assessing the wound with practiced calm. He didn't look up as he replied. "An automated distress signal was programmed into the master control panel of this house, Mr. Vance—pardon me, Mr. Hayes. It triggers whenever an intruder breaches the perimeter or when a designated panic button is pressed."
Elena gasped from across the room. "A panic button? Marcus, I told you! She set this entire thing up from the very beginning!"
Clara groaned, her head rolling toward the detective. Her voice was weak, dripping with manufactured vulnerability. "Officer... please... she attacked me... she came into our home and stabbed me because I found out about her affair..."
Detective Vance raised a hand, silencing Clara gently. He stood up, towering over Marcus and Elena, his expression completely unreadable under the harsh recessed ceiling lights.
"Ma'am, save your strength for the paramedics," Vance said smoothly. He then turned his piercing gaze onto Elena. "Miss Miller, isn't it? You were standing directly over the victim when Mr. Hayes walked through those doors. The security footage we intercepted from the server confirms your presence at the exact time of the assault."
Elena shook her head violently, taking a step back until her back hit the cold glass of the window. "No! That's a complete lie! The footage has been tampered with! Look at the photographs on the floor—Clara hired a private investigator to frame me!"
Vance glanced down at the scattered photos, his expression tightening just a fraction. He bent down slowly, picking up one of the images showing Elena handing over the brown envelope.
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"Interesting," Vance murmured, slipping the photograph into his breast pocket. "A private investigator. Do you happen to have his name, Miss Miller?"
Before Elena could answer, the front door behind Marcus creaked slightly, pushed open by a gust of wind, revealing a pair of muddy footprints on the porch that definitely did not belong to the detective.
