Chapter 6 - The Visitor in Room Three
The glass partition of visitation booth three was smudged with greasy fingerprints and marred by deep scratches from old diamond rings. Clara sat on the bolted metal stool on the inmate side, her fingers curled tightly around the heavy plastic telephone receiver. On the other side of the glass sat Elena, wearing a simple navy blue cardigan over a white blouse, her posture stiff and unnatural. She didn't pick up her own receiver immediately; instead, she stared directly at Clara with dark, unblinking eyes that seemed to hold zero fear and infinite calculation.
Clara pressed the phone tighter against her ear. "Why are you here, Elena? Where is Martha?"
"Martha is resting," Elena said through the small metal speaker grille, her voice carrying a crisp, European accent that Clara had never noticed before. "She doesn't like the police station. It smells like damp earth and bad decisions."
"If you're here as Julian’s messenger, you can tell him I'm not signing the property transfer," Clara said, her voice hard and level. "I know about the shell companies, Elena. I know what you and Julian have been doing with the city zoning funds."
Elena didn't blink. She slowly reached into her handbag, pulled out a thick manila envelope identical to the one she had carried down the hallway, and slid it beneath the narrow metal slot at the base of the glass partition. The envelope came to a halt right in front of Clara’s trembling fingers.
"Mr. Sterling is a very thorough man," Elena said softly, her lips barely moving as she spoke. "He spent eighteen months building this narrative. But he made one mistake. He trusted Detective Vance to handle the cleanup."
Clara stared down at the envelope. "What’s inside?"
"Proof that your husband’s first wife didn't drown in Lake Michigan five years ago," Elena said, her voice dropping to a whisper that barely crossed the speaker grille. "And proof that Detective Vance signed the original autopsy report before transferring to this district."
Clara’s breath hitched in her throat. Her hand hovered inches above the manila envelope. "Why are you giving this to me? If Julian finds out you betrayed him—"
"Mr. Sterling is currently busy entertaining visitors from the state prosecutor’s office," Elena interrupted, a faint, cold smile touching the corners of her mouth. "He thinks he has the situation under control. But he doesn't know about Martha."
"What about Martha?" Clara demanded, leaning so close to the glass her breath fogged the surface. "Who is she really? She’s not just an elderly dependent."
Before Elena could answer, the red light above the visitation booth door flashed twice, and a heavy buzzer vibrated through the floorboards. The guard on duty outside stepped into the room, his hand reaching for the latch. Elena stood up smoothly, slung her leather handbag over her shoulder, and turned toward the exit without looking back.
"Open the envelope when you get back to your cell," Elena said over her shoulder as the door clicked open. "And don't trust the public defender. She bills the architectural firm directly."
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Clara grabbed the manila envelope just as the guard wrenched open the visitation door. She tucked it hastily beneath the waistband of her green satin shirt, keeping her arms crossed tightly over her stomach as she was marched back down the concrete corridor toward the holding cell. The air in the cellblock felt heavier now, charged with a palpable tension that made the hair on her arms stand up. As she stepped inside her cell and the heavy iron door slammed shut behind her, she pulled the envelope out, tore open the red wax seal, and pulled out a single, folded photograph that made her drop the papers in absolute horror.
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