Chapter 3 - THE EIGHTEEN MINUTES
The first 911 call was placed at 8:47 p.m.
Rebecca’s fall, based on the home security system’s motion log and a neighbor’s doorbell camera, happened no later than 8:29.
Eighteen minutes.
That was what Detective Salazar had been trying to reconcile even before Lily spoke.
Eighteen minutes between the sound of a hard impact inside the rear hall and Evelyn’s call for an ambulance.
Eighteen minutes in which three adults were confirmed to have been inside Michael’s house.
Rebecca.
Derek.
Evelyn.
And, for at least the first few minutes, Arthur.
Michael sat in a small office beside the funeral chapel while Salazar explained.
Lily had been taken to a quiet family room with Maya Carter, Rebecca’s closest friend, who had arrived at the funeral halfway through the service. A child-services specialist was being called so Lily could be interviewed properly later without adults feeding her questions.
Michael appreciated that.
He also hated every second he wasn’t beside her.
Salazar continued.
“Your father arrived with Evelyn and Derek at approximately 7:56.”
“How do you know?”
“A neighbor’s camera picked up their vehicle.”
Michael looked toward the chapel wall as if he could see through it into his family.
“No one told me Dad was there.”
“I know.”
“Why were they there?”
“That is one of the things I’m trying to establish.”
Salazar opened another page.
“Rebecca received a call from Victor Lang at 8:04. It lasted eleven minutes.”
Michael looked up.
“Her CEO?”
“Yes.”
“What were they talking about?”
“We didn’t know. Mr. Lang initially declined to discuss internal company matters until we could establish relevance. Then Rebecca’s phone disappeared, and he became more concerned.”
Michael felt a flash of anger.
“You talked to him before today?”
“Yesterday.”
“And nobody told me?”
“You were in transit, and at that point your wife’s death was still consistent with an accidental fall. We were preserving possibilities, not accusing anyone.”
He forced himself to breathe.
“Fine.”
Salazar’s tone softened.
“I know that answer doesn’t feel sufficient right now.”
“No,” Michael said. “It doesn’t.”
She accepted that.
Then she told him the next part.
At 8:19, Rebecca sent Victor Lang a short company message from her laptop:
They’re here. Derek knows. I may need to leave.
At 8:21, the laptop went offline.
At 8:29, the neighbor’s camera recorded the sound investigators believed corresponded with Rebecca’s fall.
At 8:31, Arthur left the house.
Alone.
He had apparently been driven there by Evelyn but left on foot with his cane, making it only halfway down the block before a neighbor helped him into a rideshare he called from his medical alert watch.
Michael stared.
“My father walked away?”
Salazar nodded.
“He told the responding officer later that there had been an argument. His speech difficulty made the first interview fragmented. Evelyn repeatedly answered for him.”
Of course she did.
“What did he say?”
“That Derek was angry. Rebecca had papers. Evelyn wanted everyone to calm down. Then Arthur left because he said he ‘would not stay for this.’”
Michael pressed both hands over his face.
His father knew.
Not everything maybe.
Enough to leave.
“What happened during the eighteen minutes?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Michael looked up.
“Her phone knows.”
“Possibly.”
“And Derek had it.”
“Yes.”
Salazar didn’t soften that one.
The funeral-office door opened.
Officer Reynolds leaned in.
“Detective, Victor Lang is calling the device again.”
Salazar looked at Michael.
“Are you willing to speak with him?”
Michael stood.
Victor answered from his office on the first try once the police accepted the incoming call on Rebecca’s phone.
He appeared on screen gray-haired, square-jawed, wearing a dark suit with Washington’s late-afternoon skyline behind him.
The instant he saw Michael, his expression collapsed.
“Michael.”
“You knew Rebecca?”
Victor’s eyes lowered briefly.
“She was one of the best people in my company.”
“That is not what I asked.”
A pause.
Then: “Yes. I knew her well professionally.”
Michael pointed toward the bagged phone.
“My brother had her phone in his pocket at her funeral.”
Victor closed his eyes.
When he opened them, whatever corporate caution had been there was gone.
“She found something.”
Michael’s pulse rose.
“What?”
Victor glanced off-screen, perhaps toward legal counsel or another executive.
Then back.
“Six months of inflated facilities invoices paid to subcontractors that did almost no work. One vendor was incorporated nine months ago.”
Michael already knew before the name came.
Victor said, “Hale Property Solutions.”
Derek’s company.
Michael stared at the screen.
Victor continued.
“Rebecca believed someone inside Beacon Ridge was funneling contracts to your brother. The amount we identified was just over six hundred thousand dollars.”
Michael could barely process the number.
“That’s impossible.”
“I wish it were.”
“Why would my wife be investigating my brother?”
“Because she discovered his name only after the investigation started.”
The distinction mattered.
Rebecca had not gone hunting for Derek.
She had found him.
Victor’s voice lowered.
“She called me Tuesday because the final records showed something worse. The vendor payments were backed by personal guarantees and bridge money tied to your father’s assets.”
Michael looked instinctively toward the chapel.
Arthur.
Victor said, “Rebecca told me she believed your mother was involved.”
And then Michael understood why Evelyn had been so desperate to bury Rebecca’s death inside the word accident.
May you like
It wasn’t only Derek she had been protecting.
It was herself.
