Chương 8
Ethan waited.
“Where documents were kept.”
“Why would he know that?”
“I don’t know.”
The answer bothered both of them.
Because it meant there were questions without comfortable answers.
Detective Martinez arrived later that morning with another officer.
This time, she brought no folder.
No photographs.
Only a small notebook.
She sat across from Claire.
“We found something at your house.”
Claire’s expression changed.
“What?”
“A hidden storage device.”
Ethan looked between them.
“Where?”
“Inside a wall panel behind a bookshelf.”
Claire stared.
“That was not there before.”
“We believe it was installed recently.”
“What was on it?”
Detective Martinez opened the notebook.
“Records.”
“What kind?”
“Financial records.”
Claire closed her eyes.
The detective continued.
“Not just yours.”
The room became quiet.
“We found files connected to several people.”
“Victims?”
“We are still determining that.”
Claire looked angry.
“You know.”
“I know we found unusual transactions.”
“That means yes.”
Detective Martinez did not argue.
“We are investigating.”
Ethan watched the exchange.
His mother wanted certainty.
The detective wanted proof.
Both of them were trying to protect something.
They just had different ideas of what protection meant.
“Was Richard the only person involved?” Claire asked.
Detective Martinez looked at the notebook.
“We found communication between Richard and another person.”
“Who?”
“We are working on identifying them.”
“Do you have a name?”
The detective paused.
“Not yet.”
Ethan noticed the pause.
He had started noticing pauses more.
Adults thought children only heard words.
They were wrong.
Sometimes the silence around words mattered more.
“What did they talk about?” Ethan asked.
Detective Martinez looked at him.
“Ethan.”
“I want to know.”
Claire reached for his hand.
This time, she did not tell him to leave.
The detective considered him for a moment.
“They discussed pressure.”
“Pressure from who?”
“We don’t know.”
“Richard was scared of them.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The detective looked at Claire.
Then back at Ethan.
“Because whoever this person is, Richard believed they had more power than him.”
The answer stayed with Ethan.
Richard had always seemed like the person with power.
He was older.
He was confident.
He knew how to speak to adults.
He had walked into the funeral hall wearing a suit and carrying himself like he belonged there.
But someone had frightened him.
Someone had made him desperate enough to hide a living woman in a coffin.
The detective stood.
“We’re going to move you both somewhere safer after Claire is released.”
Claire immediately shook her head.
“No.”
Ethan looked at her.
“Why not?”
“Because running does not fix anything.”
“It keeps us alive.”
Claire looked at him.
The sentence hurt because it sounded like something Richard might have said.
Not the meaning.
The certainty.
“I need to know who did this.”
Detective Martinez nodded slowly.
“That is why we need you alive.”
The words made Claire look down.
For the first time, Ethan saw his mother understand something.
Being brave and being reckless were not the same thing.
A few hours later, Claire was moved to another room while doctors continued monitoring her.
Ethan sat in the hallway with Detective Martinez.
He did not know why he stayed.
Maybe because he was tired of adults talking around him.
Maybe because he wanted to understand the world that had suddenly become dangerous.
The detective handed him a bottle of water.
He took it.
“Your mother told me something interesting.”
“What?”
“She said you notice things.”
Ethan shrugged.
“I guess.”
“She said you remember small details.”
He looked at the bottle in his hands.
“People forget details.”
“Sometimes.”
“Sometimes details are the only things that matter.”
Detective Martinez studied him.
“You know, that is actually useful.”
Ethan looked up.
“For what?”
“For finding the difference between what someone says happened and what actually happened.”
He did not smile.
Not completely.
But something about the sentence felt important.
A few minutes later, another officer approached Detective Martinez and whispered something.
Her expression changed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
Ethan noticed.
“What happened?”
Detective Martinez looked toward him.
“Richard asked to speak with you.”
Ethan felt cold.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The detective did not answer immediately.
That was the pause.
The one that mattered.
“Because he says he knows who was really responsible.”
Ethan looked through the hospital window toward his mother’s room.
A part of him wanted to refuse.
Another part wanted answers more than anything.
He had spent days surrounded by people deciding what he could handle.
Maybe that was the problem.
Everyone had been deciding for him.
He looked back at Detective Martinez.
“When?”
She checked the time.
“Soon.”
Ethan nodded slowly.
But before he walked toward the interview room, he stopped and looked at his mother sleeping behind the glass.
He made himself a promise.
He would listen carefully.
He would not let anger decide what happened next.
And when the truth finally came out, he would make sure his mother never had to fight alone again.
Ethan sat across from Richard less than an hour later, and for the first time since he had known him, the man looked old.
Not older.
Old.
The confidence Richard used to wear like a uniform was gone.
His suit was wrinkled.
His hair was uneven from running his hands through it too many times.
The expensive watch on his wrist looked strange in the small interview room.
Like something from another life.
Richard looked at Ethan through the glass table between them.
“I’m sorry.”
Ethan said nothing.
He had heard those words too many times in the last few days.
Richard looked down.
“I know you don’t believe me.”
“You buried my mom.”
Richard closed his eyes briefly.
The sentence landed.
Not because it was new.
Because it was true.
“I know.”
“No.”
Ethan leaned forward.
“I don’t think you do.”
Richard looked at him.
“You think I don’t understand what I did.”
“I think you understand.”
The answer surprised him.
Ethan surprised himself too.
“You just thought you had a reason.”
May you like
Richard looked away.
That was the first honest reaction.
