Daniel lifted both hands in a performance of innocence. “Everyone, please. My sister-in-law is grieving. She’s confused.”
“Am I?” I asked.
His attorney, a silver-haired man named Pierce, rose from the front pew. That told me everything. No grieving widower brought his criminal defense lawyer to a funeral unless he expected a storm.
Pierce smiled coldly. “Agent Hale, this is neither the time nor the place.”
I looked at the two coffins. “He chose the place.”
Daniel’s face hardened for half a second, then softened again for the audience. “Maya fell. The police report said so. She was dizzy. Pregnant women faint. You know that.”
I remembered Maya’s final voicemail, her voice trembling.
Lena, he knows I found the account. If something happens, don’t let him touch the insurance money.
For weeks, I had slept in two-hour pieces, following crumbs Daniel thought were ash. Deleted messages recovered from Maya’s tablet. Pharmacy receipts for medication she was never prescribed. A burner phone pinging near their house the night she died. A life insurance policy changed six days before the “accident.” Celeste’s name hidden inside a shell company receiving transfers from Daniel’s business.
And blood.
read more in next page
