Chapter 3 - The Sheriff’s Order
I kept Noah against my chest.
“I am not armed.”
Sheriff Crane surveyed the room.
His gaze briefly settled on the coffin.
He showed no surprise.
That troubled me more than anything he could have said.
“You were informed about this death?” I asked.
“I was informed of a private medical tragedy.”
“Did you view the body?”
“That wasn’t necessary.”
“Did you confirm the identity?”
“Daniel,” Mother interrupted.
“Please stop making this more painful.”
I faced Crane.
“The woman in that coffin is not Emily.”
The sheriff’s expression barely changed.
“You are grieving.”
“I know my wife’s face.”
“And I know when a situation is becoming unsafe.”
Two deputies moved closer.
I shifted Noah higher against my shoulder.
“You will not touch me while I am holding this child.”
Crane exhaled slowly.
“Place him in the bassinet.”
“Then we can discuss everything calmly.”
A knock sounded against the open door.
“That would be difficult, Sheriff.”
Elena Vasquez entered in a dark suit.
A federal identification card hung from her neck.
Two CID agents followed behind her.
Crane’s jaw tightened.
“This is outside military jurisdiction.”
“Captain Hale is active-duty military.”
“His spouse was listed as his emergency dependent.”
“His child may have been unlawfully removed from an undisclosed medical facility.”
“That gives me more than enough authority to ask questions.”
Elena approached me.
Her expression softened when she saw Noah.
“You all right?”
“I don’t know.”
“That is probably the most accurate answer anyone has given in this house.”
She turned toward the coffin.
“Who identified the deceased?”
Mother lifted her chin.
“I did.”
“Using what documentation?”
“She is my daughter-in-law.”
“That is not documentation.”
Elena examined the body without touching it.
Then she noticed the bruising near the woman’s wrist.
“Sheriff, was this scene photographed before the body was moved?”
Crane remained silent.
“Was a coroner notified?”
“This was handled privately.”
“Death is not handled privately.”
A CID agent began photographing the room.
Caleb moved toward the fireplace again.
I saw his gaze fall toward the metal poker stand.
“Elena,” I warned.
She followed my eyes.
“Mr. Hale, step away from the fireplace.”
Caleb raised both hands.
“You people are acting like we murdered someone.”
“No,” Elena said.
“We’re acting like a body appeared inside a private estate without a death certificate.”
One of the deputies’ radios crackled.
A dispatcher announced that a vehicle had been found abandoned near the east boundary of the property.
The vehicle was registered to Emily Hale.
There was blood on the passenger seat.
Elena looked at Mother.
“When did you last see Emily alive?”
Mother’s face tightened.
“The night she went into labor.”
“Where?”
“Here.”
Every person in the room became still.
“You said she died in childbirth at St. Matthew’s,” I said.
“She began labor here.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Mother’s composure finally cracked.
“She never made it to the hospital.”
Elena stepped closer.
“Then where was the baby delivered?”
A heavy door slammed somewhere beneath us.
Marissa, the supposed nurse, ran toward the back corridor.
One of the agents caught her before she reached the kitchen.
She struggled violently.
“Let me go.”
May you like
“I didn’t kill her.”
No one had accused her of killing anyone.
