I returned to the house before noon because grief was useless unless I could aim it at something.
The police had sealed the dining room, but Detective Vale walked me through after I mentioned the cameras.
“You have security footage?” she asked.
“Front door, back door, kitchen, living room. Cloud backup.”
“Why didn’t you say that earlier?”
“Because earlier my wife died.”
She said nothing after that.
The house still smelled like Christmas dinner. Butter, rosemary, cinnamon, turkey—and something ruined underneath. A good smell made unbearable forever.
The tree lights blinked over the empty living room. Noah’s half-unwrapped drone sat under the tree. Sophie’s dollhouse still had a bow stuck to the roof.
I kept my eyes away from where Elise had fallen.
In my office, I opened the security app.
At 3:12 p.m., Celia arrived with two casserole dishes in quilted carriers. Her husband, Arthur, was absent. Flu, she had said.
Before ringing the bell, Celia looked directly into the camera.
Not glanced.
Looked.
Inside, Elise hugged her mother with the tight smile she used when she wanted peace. Celia barely hugged back. She carried her dishes to the counter like she owned the room.
For thirteen minutes, she was alone in the kitchen.
That alone meant nothing.
Or everything.
At 4:08, Martin, Jenna, and Caleb arrived. At 4:39, Lucas showed up with wine and a small wrapped gift for Elise. He hugged her too long. On screen, he said something that made her step away carefully.
Vale glanced at me.
“History there?”
“College friend.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s all I have.”
Then the gravy boat appeared.
Jenna took it from the cabinet. Martin stirred drippings in a saucepan. Elise came in, added flour and seasoning, tasted it, smiled, and poured it into the boat.
Clean so far.
Too clean.
At 5:52, Elise left to help Noah in the hall.
Celia entered.
She opened her purse and took out a silver compact. She checked her reflection. Powdered her nose. Then set the compact beside the gravy boat.
Vale leaned closer.
Lucas appeared in the doorway. Celia snapped the compact shut and slid it back into her purse. They spoke with no audio. Lucas looked tense. Celia looked still. Then she leaned close and said something that made his face go blank.
Lucas left.
Celia stayed.
Her hand hovered near the gravy boat, but Sophie ran in before Celia touched it. Celia smiled down at my daughter, reached into her pocket, and gave her a peppermint.
My stomach turned.
“What kind?” Vale asked.
“Old-fashioned peppermint. Chalky. Celia always carried them.”
On screen, Sophie put it in her mouth.
I stood so fast the chair tipped backward.
“The gravy wasn’t the only delivery.”
Vale was already calling it in.
Then Celia gave Noah one too.
Later, while we were all seated, the kitchen camera caught Lucas returning alone. He picked up the gift he had brought for Elise, hesitated, then slipped something small from beside the wine bottles into his jacket pocket.
Vale froze the frame.
“What is that?”
I zoomed in until the image blurred.
A tiny vial.
Maybe.
Or a corkscrew.
Or nothing.
Then my phone rang.
Hospital.
“Mr. Mercer,” the nurse said. “Noah is asking for you.”
My knees nearly gave out.
“He’s awake?”
“Briefly. Weak, but yes.”
“And Sophie?”
“Still sedated, but stable.”
For the first time since Elise’s last breath, air entered my lungs without pain.
Vale closed the laptop slowly.
“We have more than one suspect,” she said.
That should have comforted me.
Instead, it made the room colder.
Because if more than one person had touched death that night, then my family had not been attacked.
We had been surrounded.
Part 4: The Inheritance
Continued on next page
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