Chapter 3: The Woman Who Came Prepared
Detective Hana Reyes was thirty-eight years old, small-framed, and had the kind of stillness that made people say too much.
She set the listening device on the kitchen counter inside an evidence bag and looked at Beatrice without blinking.
"Ma'am, I'm going to need you to sit down."
"I will not sit down in that woman's kitchen." Beatrice pulled her coat tighter.
"My son is missing and you're wasting time interrogating his family."
"I'm not interrogating anyone yet," Detective Reyes said.
"But I will be."
Scott put his hand on his mother's arm.
"Mom.
Sit down."
Beatrice sat.
Clara stood near the doorway, Lily pressed against her side.
She had asked a neighbor to take Lily for the night, but Lily had refused to let go of her backpack, refused to leave, and Clara hadn't had the strength to force it.
Now Lily sat on the hallway bench with her knees pulled to her chest, watching everything with the quiet attention of a child who understood more than anyone wanted her to.
Detective Reyes placed a small recorder on the table.
"Mrs.
Vance — Beatrice — when did you last speak to your son Ethan?"
"Two days ago.
He called to check on me."
"What did you talk about?"
"Family matters.
Nothing unusual."
"Did he mention anything about the apartment?
About Clara?"
Beatrice's jaw tightened.
"He mentioned that things at home were difficult."
Clara's head came up.
"That's not true."
"Mrs.
Vance — Clara — I'll come to you next," Reyes said calmly.
Then back to Beatrice: "Difficult in what way?"
"He said Clara had been going through his financial records.
His private business documents." Beatrice folded her hands on the table.
"He was worried about what she might do."
"That is a lie," Clara said.
Her voice didn't shake this time.
"I found those records because he left them open on the laptop we share.
I saw transfers I didn't recognize.
I asked him about them.
He left the next morning and never came back."
Reyes made a note.
"What kind of transfers?"
"Large ones.
To an account I didn't recognize.
Over sixty thousand dollars across four months."
Scott shifted in his chair.
Just slightly.
But Reyes caught it.
"Mr.
Vance," she said, turning to him.
"You've been very quiet."
"I don't have anything to add."
"You drove your mother here tonight.
Did she call you, or did you call her?"
A pause.
"She called me."
"What time?"
Another pause.
Longer.
"Around one-thirty."
Reyes let that sit in the room for a moment.
The 911 call had come in at 1:47 a.m.
The device in the plant had been transmitting live audio.
Beatrice had called Scott before the police were even on the way.
Clara looked at Scott.
He didn't look back.
"I want to ask about the plant," Reyes said.
Beatrice's chin lifted.
"I brought it as a gift.
I bring Clara things all the time.
I'm a generous mother-in-law."
"When did you bring it?"
"Four days ago.
Maybe five.
I don't remember exactly."
"Do you know what was buried in the soil?"
"Of course not."
"Then you won't mind if we test it for your fingerprints."
The color in Beatrice's face didn't drain all at once.
It went slowly, like water pulling back from a shore.
"I touched the pot," she said carefully.
"When I carried it in.
My fingerprints would naturally be on it."
"On the pot," Reyes agreed.
"What about on the device itself?"
Beatrice said nothing.
Scott stood up.
"We're not answering any more questions without a lawyer."
"That's absolutely your right." Reyes clicked off her recorder and stood.
"But I'll tell you what I'm going to do.
I'm going to pull the transmission log from that device.
It records every time audio was captured and sent.
Every timestamp.
Every duration." She looked at Beatrice.
"If it was active when your son disappeared, we'll know exactly what you heard.
And when."
Beatrice's hands, still folded on the table, pressed together until her knuckles went pale.
Lily's voice came from the hallway, small and clear.
"Grandma," she said.
"Why are you scared?"
Nobody answered her.
Clara crossed the room and sat beside her daughter on the bench.
She put her arm around Lily and held her close, and over Lily's head she watched Beatrice stare at the table and say nothing at all.
That was the moment Clara understood: Beatrice had not come tonight in a panic.
May you like
She had come with a plan.
And something had already gone wrong with it.
