Chapter 3: What Curtis Already Told Them
Vanessa's mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
One of the officers moved toward the side table.
He set down a folder — thin, manila, corners worn — and left it there without opening it.
Detective Ruiz didn't look at the folder.
He looked at Vanessa.
"Curtis Aldaine," he said.
"Forty-one years old.
Works private security.
You've called him fourteen times in the last three weeks."
"That's not — " Vanessa stopped.
Started again.
"I know a lot of people."
"You called him the night before Elena's fall."
"That doesn't mean anything."
"He told us what it means."
The room didn't move.
Mrs.
Howard stood near the fireplace, one hand pressed flat against the mantle.
Her son, Daniel — Elena's husband — stood at the base of the staircase where Vanessa had been standing minutes before.
His face had gone the color of old paper.
Elena was still on the floor.
She hadn't asked anyone to help her up.
She was watching Vanessa's hands.
They were shaking now.
Very slightly.
But shaking.
"Curtis said you paid him," Detective Ruiz continued.
"Two payments.
One three weeks ago.
One the night before yesterday."
"He's lying." Vanessa's voice came back sharp.
"Whatever he told you, he's lying.
He has a crjminal record.
You can check.
He's not reliable."
"We did check." Ruiz opened the folder himself.
He turned it so Vanessa could see the top page.
"Bank transfer.
Your account.
His account.
Eleven thousand dollars."
Vanessa looked at the page.
Then she looked away.
"I want a lawyer."
"That's your right," Ruiz said.
He didn't move.
"But before your lawyer arrives, I want you to understand something.
Curtis already gave us a full statement.
Signed.
Witnessed.
He explained exactly what you hired him to do and exactly what he chose not to do."
Daniel's voice came from the staircase.
Low.
Careful.
Like a man trying not to break something.
"What did she hire him to do?"
Ruiz looked at Elena.
Elena looked at Vanessa.
"Tell him," Elena said quietly.
"Or I will."
Vanessa's jaw tightened.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"I know about the sedative," Elena said.
"I know Curtis was supposed to put it in my tea the morning of the family dinner.
I know he didn't, because he called me instead." She paused.
"He called me four days ago.
That's when I called Detective Ruiz."
The fireplace ticked.
A log shifted.
Mrs.
Howard's hand came off the mantle.
"Vanessa." Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"You were going to hurt the baby."
"I didn't do anything." Vanessa stepped back.
One step.
Then another.
Her heel found the bottom stair.
"Nothing happened.
No one was h*rt.
You can't charge someone for something that didn't happen."
"We can charge someone for conspiracy," Ruiz said.
"And for what did happen on those stairs."
Vanessa's back straightened.
Something shifted in her expression — not fear this time.
Something harder.
Something that had been waiting underneath the tears and the performance.
"You want to talk about what happened on those stairs?" Her voice dropped.
"Fine.
Let's talk.
Because I'm not the only one in this room with something to hide."
Her eyes moved to Daniel.
And Daniel went very still.
Elena felt it before she understood it — a cold pressure behind her ribs, separate from the fall, separate from the baby.
She watched her husband's face and saw something she had never seen there before.
May you like
Recognition.
He already knew what Vanessa was about to say.
