Chương 11
Once.
“About your death?”
Once.
“About cremation?”
Once.
His face remained still.
“About destroying evidence?”
Once.
Nobody moved for several seconds.
Ortiz asked, “Did either of them say they caused your condition?”
Once.
“Explicitly?”
I hesitated.
Mason had said the formula would work.
Olivia had said nobody suspected anything.
That was close.
But Ortiz had asked explicitly.
I moved twice.
He noticed the distinction.
“Did they say something you interpreted that way?”
Once.
“Good.”
He wrote it down.
Daniel exploded.
“Good?”
Ortiz looked up.
“Precision matters.”
“My brother listened to his wife plan to burn him alive.”
“And precision still matters.”
Daniel turned away.
His shoulders rose and fell.
Then he said, “Sorry.”
Ortiz said nothing.
Daniel faced the wall for a moment before turning back.
“I keep wanting this to be simple.”
Nobody answered him.
He sat down again.
“My brother was poisoned.”
His voice dropped.
“His wife did it.”
He looked at me.
“Her boyfriend helped.”
Ortiz said, “We don't yet know that.”
Daniel gave him a tired look.
“See?”
“What?”
“You ruin every sentence.”
“Occupational hazard.”
For a moment, silence returned.
Then my phone rang inside the sealed evidence bag.
Everyone looked toward it.
The sound was muffled but unmistakable.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Rachel said, “That's eerie.”
Daniel stood.
“Can we answer it?”
Ortiz said, “No.”
The ringing stopped.
A second later, it started again.
Kline looked at the bag.
“Same caller?”
“We can't see without moving it.”
Ortiz walked closer without touching it.
The display was turned downward against the plastic.
He crouched.
“Daniel, do you recognize the ringtone?”
Daniel listened.
“No.”
The call stopped.
Then the phone buzzed repeatedly with incoming messages.
My pulse accelerated.
Ortiz said, “Could be anyone.”
I tried to move my foot.
The blanket shifted.
Daniel noticed.
“You want the phone?”
Once.
Ortiz shook his head.
“Not yet.”
I rasped again.
“Who.”
It was barely audible.
Rachel's head snapped toward me.
Daniel stared.
“You said who?”
Once.
Ortiz crouched beside the bed.
“We can find out.”
He looked toward Kline.
“Can hospital legal document opening the property bag for identification of an incoming caller?”
Kline frowned.
“Why?”
“Because the patient's conscious and asking.”
“That does not make the phone unrestricted evidence.”
“It's his property.”
“And it entered the hospital under a chain we need to preserve.”
Daniel groaned.
Kline ignored him.
“We can document the opening.”
Ortiz nodded.
“Do it.”
Rachel brought a camera used for clinical documentation.
Kline read the bag number aloud.
Karen recorded the time.
Ortiz put on gloves.
The procedure felt absurdly formal for a phone I had once dropped into a bowl of soup.
He broke the seal.
The phone came out.
The screen lit with notifications.
Ortiz looked at it.
Then at me.
“There are four missed calls.”
Daniel said, “From who?”
Ortiz's eyes stayed on the screen.
“Olivia.”
No surprise there.
He scrolled without opening anything.
“And six messages.”
“From Olivia?”
“Five.”
Daniel asked, “The sixth?”
Ortiz did not answer.
He turned the phone so I could see, forgetting for half a second that my eyes were still closed.
Then he stopped himself.
His voice changed.
“The sixth is from Mason Reed.”
Everyone in the room went silent.
Daniel whispered, “What does it say?”
Ortiz read only the preview.
“Ethan, if you're awake, do not trust her.”
For several seconds, nobody reacted.
Then Daniel said, “What?”
Ortiz looked at the screen again.
“He says not to trust her.”
Daniel stood so fast the chair legs scraped.
“That does not make sense.”
My pulse climbed.
Rachel glanced at the monitor.
“Ethan, slow your breathing.”
I tried.
My body had only recently remembered how to breathe at all.
Ortiz said, “There may be more in the message.”
Kline stepped closer.
“Do not open it casually.”
Daniel stared at him.
“He is literally warning my brother about the woman who tried to kill him.”
“That is your conclusion.”
“That is everybody's conclusion except yours.”
“It is not mine.”
“Congratulations.”
Karen cut in.
“Daniel.”
He looked away.
Ortiz held the phone without touching the notification.
“Ethan, do you want me to open Mason's message?”
Once.
Kline said, “Document it.”
Ortiz nodded.
Karen read the time aloud again.
The whole process made me want to scream.
A message from one of the two people who had discussed burning my body was sitting inches away, and we were treating it like a museum artifact.
But the caution mattered.
I understood that now.
If Mason and Olivia had built my death carefully, the truth would have to be built just as carefully.
Ortiz opened the message.
His eyes moved across the screen.
Daniel asked, “Well?”
Ortiz read aloud.
“Ethan, if you're awake, do not trust her.”
He paused.
“I should have told you sooner.”
Another pause.
“I tried to stop what she was doing, but I made it worse.”
Daniel made a disbelieving sound.
Ortiz continued.
“The medication was not supposed to kill you.”
The room disappeared around me.
My finger began moving before anyone asked a question.
Once.
Once.
Once.
Rachel touched my shoulder.
“We see you.”
Ortiz read the final line.
“If you can speak, tell the police I have everything saved.”
Daniel said, “Saved where?”
“There is no more preview.”
“Open the thread.”
Kline said, “Wait.”
Daniel turned.
“Why?”
“Because a conversation thread may contain messages outside the scope of what Mr. Cole has consented to us viewing.”
Daniel stared at him.
“My brother is consenting.”
Kline looked at me.
“Are you?”
Once.
“Do you authorize Detective Ortiz to review the conversation between you and Mason Reed on this device?”
Once.
“Entirely?”
Once.
Daniel muttered, “There.”
Ortiz scrolled upward.
His face changed almost immediately.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
“What?” Karen asked.
“He deleted things.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“How can you tell?”
“There are gaps.”
Ortiz moved through the thread.
“The conversation jumps dates.”
My mind searched backward.
Mason and I rarely texted except about appointments.
Sometimes he sent stretches or reminders after sessions.
May you like
Nothing secret.
Nothing important.
