Chapter 9 - My Sister's PriceVanessa had done terrible things.
No promises.
No immunity.
Just questions.
Margaret Owens sat across from Detective Hale in a gray interrogation room.
I watched from behind glass.
I wasn't supposed to be part of the interview.
That was probably wise.
She looked smaller without the mansion.
Without jewelry.
Without guests.
Without the performance.
Hale placed a photograph of my father on the table.
"When did you last see Thomas Owens?"
Mom said nothing.
"Mrs. Owens?"
"I want my attorney."
"He's sitting beside you."
Her lawyer sighed.
"Margaret, you agreed to answer limited questions."
She stared at the photograph.
"Three weeks ago."
My breath stopped.
Hale remained calm.
"Where?"
"At Robert's office."
"What did you discuss?"
"Money."
"Whose?"
"Daniel's."
"Why?"
She finally looked up.
"Because Thomas wouldn't leave us alone."
Hale slid another document forward.
"Did you help him fake his death?"
Her lawyer interrupted.
"Don't answer that."
Mom ignored him.
"Yes."
Even Hale looked surprised.
She continued.
"It wasn't supposed to become this."
My fists clenched.
"What was it supposed to become?" Hale asked.
"A fresh start."
"For whom?"
"For all of us."
She laughed weakly.
"Thomas had debts. Gambling. People threatening him. Insurance money was the only way."
"So you helped stage an accident?"
"Robert arranged the car."
There it was.
Uncle Robert.
"Whose body was recovered?"
Mom's face tightened.
"I don't know."
"Someone died."
"I know."
"Who?"
"I don't know!"
For the first time, she broke.
"I didn't ask."
Behind the glass, I felt sick.
An unidentified person had burned in my father's car so my parents could collect insurance.
Whether that death was accidental or deliberate would become another investigation.
Hale continued.
"When did Thomas return?"
"Seven years ago."
A year before I left for Saudi Arabia.
"What did he want?"
"Money."
"Did he threaten you?"
"Constantly."
"Why not report him?"
She laughed.
"And explain he'd been alive for years? Explain the insurance money?"
"So you paid him."
"Yes."
"With Daniel's money."
She didn't answer.
Hale leaned forward.
"Let's talk about Emily."
Mom's expression changed.
Coldness returned.
"She hated me."
"No. She feared you."
"She turned Daniel against his family."
"He came home and found his son eating spoiled food."
Her jaw tightened.
"That wasn't supposed to happen."
I nearly pushed through the glass.
Hale heard the wording too.
"What wasn't supposed to happen?"
"The boy wasn't supposed to be there."
"Where was he supposed to be?"
"With me."
"Why?"
"Because Emily was unstable."
"Was she?"
"Eventually."
Hale stared.
"What does that mean?"
Mom realized she'd said too much.
Her lawyer whispered something.
She shook her head.
"No."
Hale placed the lab report on the table.
"Arsenic was found in food containers provided to Emily and Noah."
Mom's face trembled.
"I didn't poison Noah."
"You didn't answer regarding Emily."
"I didn't poison anyone."
"Your fingerprints were on the arsenic jar."
"It belonged to Thomas."
Silence.
My heart hammered.
Hale didn't react.
"Explain."
"He brought it."
"When?"
"Eight months ago."
The same period as Emily's insurance policy.
"What did he say?"
Mom looked toward the mirror.
I wondered if she knew I was behind it.
"He said Emily was becoming a problem."
My stomach turned.
"And you took out life insurance on her?"
"Thomas told me to."
"Why?"
"He said if something happened, we'd need money to raise Noah."
Hale's voice hardened.
"Something like arsenic poisoning?"
"No!"
She slapped the table.
"I never agreed to kill her!"
Behind glass, I closed my eyes.
Never agreed.
Not I never knew.
Never agreed.
Hale continued.
"But you knew Thomas was considering it."
Mom cried.
"I thought he was trying to scare me."
"Did you tell Emily?"
"No."
"Daniel?"
"No."
"Police?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because everything would come out!"
There.
The central truth.
She was willing to gamble with Emily's life to protect herself from insurance fraud charges.
Hale sat back.
"Did you give them poisoned food?"
"No."
"Did Vanessa?"
"I don't know."
"Robert?"
"I don't know."
"Thomas?"
She looked down.
"Probably."
I stared at her.
Probably.
My mother had known my supposedly dead father might be poisoning my wife.
And she kept quiet.
Hale then asked the question I cared about most.
"Why were Emily and Noah living in the cottage?"
Mom wiped her face.
"Emily wouldn't stop asking questions."
"So you punished her?"
"I needed control."
The words came almost as a whisper.
"I thought if she depended on me, she'd stop."
"For food?"
Silence.
"For transportation?"
Silence.
"Communication?"
Mom began crying harder.
Hale's expression didn't soften.
"You isolated a woman from her husband, forged guardianship documents, intercepted mail, restricted food, and knew someone might be poisoning her."
"I didn't mean for Noah to suffer."
"But he did."
She looked at the mirror.
Straight at me.
Then said:
"Daniel wasn't supposed to come home."
My skin went cold.
Hale leaned closer.
"Why?"
Mom whispered.
"Because Thomas planned to make sure he didn't."
Everything stopped.
"What?"
"He said once Emily was gone, Daniel would come back angry."
Hale's voice became sharper.
"What was he planning?"
"An accident overseas."
"How?"
"I don't know."
"Margaret."
"He had contacts!"
"What kind of contacts?"
"People from Daniel's work."
I stepped away from the glass.
My father had not only targeted my wife.
He had considered me too.
Hale left the room ten minutes later.
He found me in the corridor.
"You okay?"
"No."
"Your employer needs to be notified."
"They already know I'm back."
"I'm talking about security."
We contacted my company.
Internal investigators reviewed personnel connected to my old site.
One name appeared repeatedly in unauthorized access logs.
Khalid Rahman, subcontractor logistics coordinator.
He had accessed my travel schedule.
My residential address.
Even emergency-contact records.
Police discovered $18,000 transferred into his account from a company linked to Robert.
I stared at the report.
My father had been building a trap across continents.
But my early return ruined his timeline.
Then a message arrived from Vanessa.
A photo.
Taken from inside a car.
It showed my father standing across the street from her attorney's office.
Alive.
Watching.
Below it, she wrote:
HE FOUND ME.
Before police reached Vanessa, her phone went offline.
Her car was discovered in a parking garage.
Driver's door open.
Purse on the seat.
Vanessa was gone.
May you like
And for the first time since coming home, the sister who had helped torment my wife was no longer merely a suspect.
She might also be a hostage.
Related Stories
