I sat in Marcus’ car for another moment, gathering myself. The evidence was solid now. video footage, witness identification, timer device remnants, a forged signature. My mother had been careful, but not careful enough.
One more thing, I looked at Marcus. The messages from her phone.
Jason had explained it to me the day before. Cloud backups, text messages that users thought they’d deleted, still sitting on servers accessible with a proper subpoena. The legal request went through this morning.
Marcus confirmed.
Patricia’s carrier is cooperating. We should have her message history within 48 hours.
But I already knew what we’d find. She hadn’t done this alone. Richard knew. Maybe helped. And somewhere in those deleted texts was proof.
Go.
Marcus checked his watch.
I’ll be there at 2:45. Just stay calm. Let the evidence speak.
I nodded and opened the car door, then paused.
Marcus, why are you helping me so much? This is more than just standard investigation.
He was quiet for a moment.
My sister, 15 years ago, abusive ex-husband burned down her house while she was at work. Insurance company tried to deny her claim. Said it was suspicious.
His jaw tightened.
She spent three years fighting to prove she didn’t do it herself. Nearly destroyed her.
Did she win?
Eventually, but it cost her everything.
He met my eyes.
When I saw your case, mother listed as beneficiary without consent. Fire with no accidental cause, I knew someone was trying to do to you what they tried to do to her.
I understood then this wasn’t just a job for him.
Thank you, I said.
Don’t thank me yet. Thank me when she’s in cuffs.
I walked back toward my parents house. 25 minutes, then everything would change.
The living room went silent when I walked back in. Patricia was still at the center of the room, tissue in hand, playing the wounded mother, but something flickered in her eyes when she saw my face. I wasn’t crying, wasn’t shaking, wasn’t behaving like someone on the verge of a breakdown.
Evelyn, honey, she recovered quickly. Are you feeling better? Do you need water?
Actually, Mom, I have a question.
The room tensed. 15 pairs of eyes fixed on me.
When you visited my apartment last month, I kept my voice calm, conversational. Why did you stay for 3 hours? You told me it was 30 minutes.
Patricia blinked.
What? I don’t remember exactly how long.
The building has cameras, Mom.
I pulled out my phone.
I have the footage.
Her face changed just for a second. A flicker of something cold beneath the maternal mask.
Richard straightened.
Evelyn, that’s enough. You’re embarrassing yourself.
And the bag you brought? I continued ignoring him. The large black one. Where did it go? Because you walked in with it. But you walked out empty-handed.
I don’t know what you’re talking about.
The fire investigators do.
The room was utterly still now. Aunt Margaret’s mouth hung open. Cousin Brian had set down his drink. Even Richard had stopped pretending to check his phone.
Evelyn.
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