Part 5
The drive back to our house in the back of the police cruiser was silent and suffocating. The flashing blue lights painted the passing trees and dark houses in rhythmic, haunting strokes. My mind kept replaying the image of Eva’s small body twitching on the floor, the terrifying contrast of her bright pink pajamas against the deathly pale of her skin.
When we pulled into our driveway, two other police cars were already parked there, their engines idling, headlights cutting through the pre-dawn mist.
Detective Miller opened my door, her hand resting instinctively near her holster. "Mrs. Vance, please stay behind me. My officers have already made contact, but we need you to formally authorize our entry so we can preserve the chain of custody for any evidence we find."
I walked up the front steps, my chest tight. The front door was wide open, casting a long block of yellow light onto the porch. As we stepped into the entryway, I heard voices coming from the living room—sharp, defensive, and entirely devoid of guilt.
"This is an absolute outrage!" Marlene was shouting. She was sitting on our velvet sofa, her posture rigid, her hands neatly folded in her lap despite the two uniformed officers standing guard over her. "I am a grieving widow! I have done nothing but help this family, and now I am being treated like a common criminal because a child had a medical episode?"
"Marlene Vance," Detective Miller said, stepping into the room, her voice carrying a terrifying stillness. "We are here investigating the intentional poisoning of Eva Vance. Her laboratory reports indicate a lethal concentration of Digoxin in her system."
Marlene didn’t flinch. Not even a twitch of her eyelid. She merely offered a cold, patronizing smile. "Well, that is terribly tragic. But Eva is a clumsy, curious child. She must have dug through one of my old travel bags and found some of my late husband's leftover medication. I told Jack he should have helped me clear out those old things weeks ago. This is a case of poor parental supervision, Detective, nothing more."
"Is that why you slapped her at two in the morning?" I yelled, stepping out from behind Detective Miller, my fists clenched so hard my fingernails were cutting into my palms. "Because she wanted to tell us what you were doing to her? Because she realized the milk tasted wrong?"
Marlene’s eyes locked onto mine, freezing into two chips of ice. "The child was hysterical, Elena. You have always been far too permissive with her, letting her stay up and wander the house. I gave her a gentle tap to bring her back to reality. If you were half the mother you claim to be, you would have noticed her health declining days ago instead of blaming an old woman."
"That's enough," Detective Miller interrupted, turning to her team. "Forensics, start in the kitchen. Search every cabinet, every drain, and every single container. Officers, secure the suspect's bedroom. Look for any hidden medication bottles, vials, or crushing tools."
I followed Detective Miller into the kitchen. The room looked completely normal, yet it felt like a crime scene. On the counter sat the ceramic mug Marlene had been rinsing when the ambulance arrived. It was sparkling clean, inverted on the drying rack.
A forensic technician in a white jumpsuit stepped up to it with a specialized ultraviolet light and a chemical swab kit.
"She washed it thoroughly with heavy dish soap," the technician noted, rubbing a long cotton swab around the inner rim of the mug. "But modern testing can detect microscopic residues even after a wash if the substance was concentrated enough." He dropped the swab into a sterile plastic tube. "We'll run a rapid assay on this, but we need to find the primary source bottle to seal the case."
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"Check her room," I whispered, my voice shaking as I pointed toward the small guest bedroom down the hall. "Marlene keeps a heavy, antique wooden vanity in there. It has a locked drawer at the bottom. She keeps the key on a chain around her neck. She told us it was just her old diaries and marriage certificates."
Detective Miller’s eyes lit up. She turned to the officers in the hallway. "Get the key from her neck. Now."
