Chapter 4
The word miscarriage dropped into the room like a lead weight, suffocating every remaining spark of warmth in the space. Mark spun around, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned chalk white.
“Don’t you dare bring that up,” Mark snarled, taking a threatening step toward Elena. “That has nothing to do with what happened here today. You shoved my pregnant wife onto the floor!”
Detective Vance raised a single hand, signaling Mark to halt. Her eyes darted from Mark’s furious expression to Clara’s paralyzed face. The mention of a previous trauma had introduced a dangerous layer of psychological complexity into an already volatile crime scene. In domestic cases, the deepest wounds were often the ones invisible to a patrol officer’s eye.
“Mrs. Hayes,” Detective Vance said softly, shifting her weight as she maintained a non-threatening posture near the floor. “I need you to look at me, and take a deep breath. Can you tell me what happened right before you fell?”
Clara’s lips trembled. She looked down at the polished wooden floorboards, tracing the grain with her tear-filled eyes. She raised a shaking hand, her fingers brushing the tender skin behind her left ear where Elena’s fingers had gripped her moments before.
“She... she cornered me,” Clara whispered, her voice barely audible above the hum of the refrigerator in the open-kitchen background. “She said... she said the baby wouldn't survive the month if I didn’t sign the house over to her trust.”
Elena laughed openly this time, the sound bright and devoid of any genuine humor. “Oh, Clara, your delusions are getting remarkably creative. Why would I want this rundown apartment when my stake in our father’s estate is worth millions?”
“Because you bankrupt your accounts funding your underground clinics!” Mark shouted, losing the last shred of his composure. He lunged past the detective, grabbing Elena by the lapel of her maroon turtleneck before Sarah could physically intervene.
“Mr. Hayes! Step back!” Detective Vance barked, drawing her taser with practiced speed and pointing it straight at Mark’s chest. The bright yellow laser dot danced across the fabric of his grey jacket.
Mark froze, breathing heavily, his fingers slowly releasing their grip on Elena’s sweater. He raised his hands in surrender, though his eyes remained wild and unhinged.
Elena smoothed down her turtleneck with infuriating calm, not a single hair out of place. She looked at the red laser dot on Mark’s jacket, then up at the detective with a triumphant gleam in her dark eyes.
“You see, Detective?” Elena said smoothly, stepping back into the safety of the kitchen alcove. “He’s violent. He’s unstable. And if anything happens to my poor, fragile sister tonight, you’ll know exactly who to blame.”
Clara let out a muffled sob, curling herself into a tight ball against the floorboards. She reached out blindly, her fingers catching the hem of Sarah’s charcoal blazer.
“Don’t let her leave,” Clara begged, coughing lightly as a drop of blood appeared on her lower lip. “She has the keys... she took the digital backups from the safe in the den.”
Detective Vance lowered her taser slowly, her professional instincts kicking into overdrive. She turned her head toward the dark corridor leading to the apartment’s back bedrooms.
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“Mr. Hayes,” Sarah said coldly, keeping her hand resting on her holster. “Walk down that hallway right now and check the master safe. If those backups are missing, your sister-in-law is walking out of here in handcuffs.”
Mark swallowed hard, his legs feeling like lead as he turned his back on the two women and began walking slowly toward the shadowy corridor.
