Chapter 4
Two hours later,
police cruise
rs pulled into the driveway of our two-story suburban house on Elm Street.
The red and blue emergency lights reflected against the dark windows of the peaceful neighborhood.
Daniel walked up the paved walkway alongside Detective Miller and two forensic officers carrying black equipment cases.
Inside,
the house smelled of stale coffee,
old carpets,
and lemon disinfectant.
"Where does Ray sleep?"
Detective Miller asked,
pulling on a pair of blue latex gloves.
"In the basement guest room,"
Daniel answered,
pointing down the narrow wooden stairs near the pantry.
"He moved in six months ago,"
Daniel noted,
his voice trembling with realization.
"Six months ago,"
Detective Miller repeated,
taking mental note of the timeline.
"Right around the time Emma started complaining of chronic fatigue and numbness in her fingers,"
he observed.
They descended the creaky steps into the damp basement.
Ray's room was a messy tangle of unmade bedsheets,
empty beer cans,
and discarded lottery tickets.
A small wooden desk sat in the corner,
covered in unpaid bills and overdue notice envelopes from predatory loan companies.
"Look through the drawers,"
Detective Miller instructed his team.
One of the forensic technicians opened the bottom drawer of the nightstand,
shining a bright LED flashlight into the dark recess.
Behind a stack of old magazines,
she pulled out a small glass vial wrapped in black electrical tape.
"Got something,"
the technician called out,
placing the vial inside a clear biohazard bag.
"Liquid contents,
unlabeled,
matches the physical properties of heavy metal solutions,"
she noted.
Daniel leaned against the doorway,
pressing a hand over his mouth as sickness washed over him.
"That bastard,"
Daniel whispered,
rage boiling beneath his skin.
"Why would he do this to a child?"
he screamed into the quiet basement.
Detective Miller walked over to the wooden desk,
flicking through the pile of opened mail.
Among the mountain of debt collections,
he pulled out a thick envelope from an insurance firm.
He opened the document,
reading the bold text at the top of the page.
"Life Insurance Policy,"
Miller read aloud,
his tone chillingly calm.
"Term life policy for five hundred thousand dollars,"
he read further,
"placed on Emma Vance six months ago."
"Who is the primary beneficiary?"
Daniel demanded,
stepping forward.
Detective Miller turned the page over so Daniel could see the fresh blue ink of the signatures at the bottom.
"Primary beneficiary: Ray Higgins,"
Miller quoted.
"Secondary beneficiary: Diane Vance."
Daniel gasped,
stumbling back against the wall as if he had been struck by a physical blow.
"She knew,"
Daniel choked out,
May you like
tears of rage blinding his eyes.
"My wife knew he was killing her daughter for half a million dollars."
