Chapter 5 - The ScratchThe blood did not belong to Nora.
It belonged to Vanessa.
A tiny smear had dried beneath the ladder's lower rail.
Daniel remembered something immediately.
When Vanessa arrived at the hospital, a narrow bandage covered the base of her right palm.
She had said she cut herself opening a wine bottle.
Detective Harris asked her lawyer for consent to provide a DNA sample.
Vanessa refused.
A judge approved a warrant.
The preliminary comparison matched.
It did not prove attempted murder by itself. Vanessa lived in the house. She could have touched the ladder at any time.
But combined with the disabled camera, the false statement and the patio footage, the evidence was no longer circumstantial in the ordinary sense.
It was becoming a pattern.
Vanessa's attorney arranged for her to stay at a hotel.
She was not yet arrested.
Daniel hated that.
“Why not?” he demanded.
Harris remained patient.
“Because prosecutors want the strongest possible case.”
“She pushed a three-year-old into a pool.”
“We have Nora's statement.”
“And six minutes of missing footage.”
“Yes.”
“And the ladder.”
“Yes.”
“What else do you need?”
“Evidence she intended for Nora to die.”
Daniel almost shouted.
“She said, ‘Rest in peace.’”
“To a three-year-old.”
“Exactly.”
Harris held his gaze.
“And if Nora can reliably repeat that statement during a forensic interview, it matters. But she's three. Defense counsel will attack every word she says.”
Daniel looked away.
“I hate this.”
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
Harris did not respond.
Later that afternoon, Daniel brought Nora home.
The moment she saw the patio doors, she froze.
Her small hand tightened around his finger.
“No pool.”
Daniel knelt.
“We don't have to go near it.”
“No Vanessa?”
“No.”
“Promise?”
The word cut through him.
“I promise.”
Milo approached slowly.
Nora immediately wrapped both arms around the dog's neck.
“Milo stayed.”
Daniel had to look away.
“Yes.”
“Milo didn't go.”
“No, sweetheart.”
She rested her cheek against the dog's fur.
Daniel realized Nora had just expressed the truth that would define his guilt for months.
Milo stayed.
Daniel hadn't.
That night, Nora slept in Daniel's room.
At two in the morning, she woke screaming.
“Ladder!”
Daniel sat up.
“I'm here.”
“Can't get out!”
He held her until she stopped shaking.
The next morning, Olivia arrived with coffee.
“You look terrible.”
“I feel worse.”
She watched Nora building blocks on the rug.
“Daniel, guilt isn't going to help her.”
“Don't.”
“I'm serious.”
“I chose Vanessa.”
“You married someone.”
“I brought her into Nora's house.”
“You didn't push Nora.”
“I ignored things.”
Olivia did not contradict him.
That hurt more.
Daniel rubbed his face.
“What did you notice?”
Olivia hesitated.
“Vanessa asked strange questions.”
“What questions?”
“About the company. Rachel's shares. The trust.”
“When?”
“Months ago.”
Daniel stared.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I did.”
He remembered.
A Christmas dinner.
Olivia had said Vanessa seemed unusually interested in estate planning.
Daniel had accused her of being jealous and judgmental.
He felt sick.
“Anything else?”
Olivia lowered her voice.
“She once asked what would happen if Nora didn't inherit Rachel's shares.”
Daniel stopped breathing.
“What exactly did she say?”
“She said, ‘If something happened before Nora was old enough, would Daniel get everything back?’”
“When?”
“January.”
Nine months earlier.
Daniel went to his study.
He opened the desk where the estate binder belonged.
Empty.
He checked the cabinet.
Nothing.
“Olivia.”
She entered.
“What?”
“The trust summary is gone.”
They searched the room.
The binder had disappeared.
Daniel called Harris.
Then he noticed something beneath the desk.
A torn corner of blue plastic.
The same color as the missing estate binder.
On it, in black marker, were three handwritten letters:
V.M.
Vanessa Mercer.
But Daniel recognized the handwriting.
May you like
It wasn't Vanessa's.
It was Marcus Reed's.
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