Chapter 6 - THE ALIBI
By morning, the mansion was swarming with police again. They dusted the studio for prints. Collected the painting. Bagged the note. Interviewed Adrian. Interviewed me. Searched every inch of the grounds.
Vanessa had been caught less than a mile away. She hadn’t even tried to run far. She had walked straight to a payphone and called a lawyer. When the police arrived, she was standing there calmly waiting.
She refused to speak. Refused to sign anything. Refused to confirm or deny a single word she had said to me in the studio.
Adrian stood beside me in the hallway as the lead detective told us what we already knew.
“She’s claiming self-defense,” Detective Morrison said, rubbing his tired eyes. “Claims you attacked her, Clara. Claims she ran because she was afraid. And she has an alibi for the note and the studio. She was seen at a restaurant across town from six until midnight. Multiple witnesses. Credit card receipts. Timestamps.”
“Julian,” Adrian said. “He used her name. He paid cash but used her card number just enough to create a trail that said she was somewhere else.”
“Exactly,” Morrison said. “And Julian Mercer is gone. Plane tickets under an alias were purchased three days ago. He could be in any country by now. We have his description. We have his name. But right now… we have nothing tying him to this house but a wallet found near a broken window. And his lawyer will say it was stolen months ago.”
“He left it on purpose,” I said quietly. “To make it look like he ran in panic. To distract you while he actually disappears completely.”
Adrian looked at me sharply. “You think he wants to be chased. You think he wants us looking outward instead of inward.”
“Yes,” I said. “Because he’s not gone. He’s waiting. Watching. Until the moment everyone relaxes their guard.”
Detective Morrison sighed. “I’ll put extra patrols on the property. But I can’t promise you twenty-four-hour protection forever. Eventually… he’ll make his move. And when he does… we’ll be ready.”
When the detective left, Adrian and I sat in the quiet kitchen. Sunlight streamed through the windows. Everything looked normal. The coffee pot bubbled gently. Outside, birds sang.
Adrian pushed a folder across the table toward me.
“I pulled Elena’s file,” he said. “The death certificate. The coroner’s report. Everything Julian gave me.”
I opened it. Read it carefully.
*Cause of death: Complications of childbirth. Cardiac arrest due to natural causes.*
Signed and certified by the attending physician. Dr. Sterling.
Adrian leaned forward. “Dr. Sterling retired and moved abroad six months after Elena died. Julian handled all the paperwork. All the medical bills. All the arrangements. I signed what I was told to sign. I trusted him.”
“Because he was family,” I said.
“Because I was grieving,” Adrian said, his voice breaking. “Because I couldn’t think straight. And he took advantage of it. Every single step of the way.”
He stood up and walked to the window, staring out at the trees.
“Julian didn’t just kill Elena to get her money,” Adrian said quietly. “He killed her because he knew I would never look at the paperwork closely. Because he knew I would let him handle everything. And then he married Vanessa… to keep an eye on me. To keep an eye on Emma.”
He turned back to me, his face pale and hard.
“They were in this together from the very beginning. Vanessa in the house. Julian in the shadows. And all this time… they’ve been waiting for Emma.”
“Waiting for what?”
Adrian’s eyes darkened.
“For her fifth birthday. When the trust fund partially releases. And again when she turns eighteen. Julian is the trustee. If anything happens to me before she comes of age… he becomes her legal guardian. And he controls everything.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“Emma turned eight months old last week,” I whispered.
May you like
Adrian nodded slowly.
“He has four years and four months,” he said. “And he will try every single day to survive until then.”
