Chapter 2 - THE BEDROOM
The police separated everyone.
An officer named Detective Mason took control of the house.
He was in his late forties, calm and observant, with the kind of eyes that seemed to notice things people forgot to hide.
He listened to Lily first.
She sat beside me on the couch, holding the doll I had bought for her.
Detective Mason didn't pressure her.
He simply asked questions.
“Did you see Uncle Derek?”
She nodded.
“Did he hurt your mommy?”
Lily hesitated.
“He yelled.”
“What did he say?”
“He said Mommy had to give him something.”
“What something?”
“Her phone.”
Mason glanced at me.
“And your grandmother?”
Lily's eyes filled with tears.
“Grandma locked the door.”
My mother immediately protested.
“She was frightened. She doesn't understand adult conversations.”
Mason didn't answer.
He turned toward the stairs.
“Let's see the bedroom.”
My mother stood.
“No.”
The detective looked at her.
“No?”
“I mean... Clara's room hasn't been cleaned.”
“Good.”
We went upstairs.
The door to Clara's bedroom was closed.
I touched the handle.
It was unlocked.
Inside, everything looked almost normal.
Almost.
The curtains were half-open.
A glass of water sat on the nightstand.
Clara's purse was on the bed.
Her jewelry box was open.
Her phone was missing.
Then I noticed something on the floor.
A broken picture frame.
It had held our wedding photograph.
The glass had been shattered.
Detective Mason crouched beside it.
“When was this taken?”
“Three years ago.”
“Was the frame always here?”
“Yes.”
He examined the floor.
Then he noticed something beneath the bed.
A small silver button.
I recognized it immediately.
Derek's coat.
My brother always wore expensive dark suits.
The button had a distinctive engraved edge.
Mason placed it inside an evidence bag.
Derek was brought upstairs.
His face had gone pale.
Mason held up the bag.
“Recognize this?”
Derek stared at it.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“You're lying.”
Derek swallowed.
“I lost that button months ago.”
Mason didn't react.
He turned toward the closet.
“Who discovered the body?”
My mother answered.
“I did.”
“When?”
“Three days ago.”
“What time?”
“Around nine.”
“And what did you do?”
“I called Beatrice.”
“Not emergency services?”
My mother hesitated.
“She was already gone.”
The detective looked at me.
“Gone where?”
I felt something cold settle in my chest.
“Who was gone?”
“Clara,” my mother said.
“She was dead when I entered.”
Mason studied her.
“Then why did you call the funeral home before calling the police?”
My mother's face hardened.
“She had been ill.”
I stared at her.
“What illness?”
Silence.
Clara had never been seriously ill.
She had complained of headaches during the previous month.
But nothing that suggested death.
Mason asked, “Did she have a doctor?”
“Yes.”
“Name?”
My mother couldn't answer.
I could.
“Dr. Elaine Porter.”
Mason wrote it down.
Then he asked another question.
“Was Clara afraid of anyone?”
My mother immediately said no.
Lily suddenly spoke.
“Yes.”
Everyone turned.
“Mommy was scared of Uncle Derek.”
Derek closed his eyes.
Mason stared at him.
Then my father's wheelchair appeared in the doorway.
My father had somehow maneuvered himself upstairs.
He raised his hand.
He pointed toward Clara's closet.
Then he pointed at me.
I opened the closet.
Clothes.
Shoes.
Boxes.
Nothing.
Then I noticed a small wooden panel at the back.
I pulled it.
It opened.
Behind it was a narrow compartment.
Inside lay Clara's missing phone.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Mason carefully removed it.
The screen was cracked.
There were three unread messages.
All from the same number.
You need to stop asking questions.
Your husband cannot protect you.
Tonight is your last warning.
The final message had been sent the night before Clara died.
I stared at the screen.
“Who sent these?”
Mason looked at the number.
“It's blocked.”
I remembered something.
“Clara used to save suspicious numbers.”
“Can you access her contacts?”
“Maybe.”
Mason examined the phone.
“There's another problem.”
“What?”
“It has been remotely wiped.”
My mother whispered, “Perhaps Clara did it herself.”
I turned toward her.
“She was threatened.”
Nobody spoke.
Then Mason's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“Understood.”
He hung up.
“What happened?” I asked.
“The coroner found something unusual.”
“What?”
He looked directly at me.
“There are bruises on Clara's wrist.”
I felt the room tilt.
Mason continued.
“And they're not consistent with an accidental fall.”
My eyes moved toward Derek.
Derek looked at the floor.
Then my father's trembling hand rose.
He pointed at Derek.
May you like
And mouthed one word.
“Camera.”
