Chapter 3
Elena's grip on the black pool hose slackened, the heavy plastic sliding an inch against the concrete coping. The afternoon sun beat down relentlessly on the back of her neck, but a sudden, bone-chilling cold radiated from the dark water at her feet where the sludge was slowly beginning to disperse through the main drain.
"What did you say about the security cameras?" Elena asked, her voice barely louder than the rustle of the oak leaves overhead.
"I said they went offline," Marcus repeated, stepping closer, his tone urgent and stripped of its previous defensive bluster. "Not by accident. The hard drive in the garage was wiped clean. Someone sat at the console with an administrator password. The only two people in this house who knew that password were me and your biological son, Julian."
Elena flinched as if she had been slapped. Julian lived three states away, wrapped up in tech startups and financial problems that Elena had secretly bailed out of three times using her own retirement savings.
"Julian hasn't been near this house in six months," Elena said, though the conviction in her voice was already beginning to fracture.
"Check your email, Elena," Marcus said, pulling his smartphone from his front pocket and tapping the screen with a trembling thumb. "I didn't want to show you this because I thought it would break your heart, but Julian was in town last Tuesday night. My dashcam caught his rental car parked two blocks down the street at 2:15 AM."
Elena stared at the glowing screen Marcus extended toward her. The pixelated image showed a silver sedan idling beneath a streetlamp, a silhouette in the driver's seat that bore an unmistakable resemblance to the slope of Julian's shoulders.
"He needed money," Elena whispered, the realization dawning with crushing weight. "He called me last month crying about a failed venture."
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"He didn't just need money," Marcus said grimly, sliding the phone back into his pocket. "He needed the entire estate liquidated before the probate court audited the accounts. And the only way to do that was to make it look like my signature and my forgery."
Before Elena could process the staggering implications of the digital proof, a sharp, metallic click echoed from the direction of the sliding glass patio door behind Marcus. Both of them whipped their heads around in unison. The heavy glass door, which they had both assumed was locked, was slowly sliding open on its track.
