Chapter 4
The word hung in the bright, modern kitchen like a toxic gas, choking the air out of the room.
Julian slowly turned around, his face devoid of color, his dark eyes flashing with a desperate, trapped fury.
“That is an insane accusation,” Julian hissed, taking a threatening step toward the detective. “Sarah died of natural causes. The coroner signed off on it.”
“The coroner who retired to the Cayman Islands six months later on a pension that tripled his life savings?” Vance asked, stepping up to Julian without flinching.
Clara stood up slowly, setting Lily down behind her and smoothing out her stained apron with shaking fingers.
“He didn't just pay off the coroner, Detective,” Clara said, her voice cutting through the men's argument with chilling clarity.
Julian whipped his head around, his eyes widening in sudden, panicked disbelief as he stared at his maid.
“Clara, shut your mouth,” Julian warned, his voice dropping into a lethal whisper. “You have no idea what you’re inviting into your life.”
“I’ve lived in this house for four years, Mr. Sterling,” Clara said, her voice steadying as she met his dark gaze with absolute defiance. “I cleaned the guest room every single Tuesday. I found the diary Sarah kept in the floorboards beneath the bed.”
Vance turned his attention fully to Clara, sliding the photographs back into the manila envelope.
“What diary, Miss Miller?” Vance asked, his voice dropping to an encouraging, confidential tone.
“Sarah knew she wasn't sick,” Clara said, taking a step away from Lily to stand beside the detective. “She wrote that Julian was giving her these small white pills for her headaches—pills that made her dizzy, confused, and unable to nurse the baby.”
Julian lunged forward, his hand shooting out to grab Clara by the wrist, but Vance was faster.
The detective caught Julian’s forearm in an iron grip, twisting it behind his back with a practiced motion that forced Julian against the quartz countertop.
“Don't you ever touch a witness in my presence again,” Vance growled, pulling a pair of cold steel cuffs from his belt.
Julian grunted, his cheek pressed against the cold stone, his dark hair falling across his eyes as he glared up at Clara.
“You ruin everything, you ungrateful little maid,” Julian spat, blood vessels bursting in the whites of his eyes. “We paid your mortgage. We kept your brother out of prison.”
Clara looked down at the man who had terrorized her household, her expression hardening into something resembling stone.
“You didn't keep him out of prison, Julian,” Clara said softly, stepping closer to whisper in his ear. “You put him there to keep him quiet about the night you carried Sarah’s body down these exact stairs.”
Vance clicked the first cuff onto Julian’s wrist, the sharp metal sound echoing like a gunshot.
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“You’re under arrest for the murder of Sarah Jenkins,” Vance recited, reading the rights into the back of Julian’s expensive suit jacket.
Just as the second cuff clicked into place, the smoke detector on the kitchen ceiling let out a single, piercing beep, followed by a smell of burning wire from behind the wall.
