Chapter 4 - No One Leaves
There are moments when an accusation is so ridiculous that anger cannot reach it immediately.
For me, that was one of them.
I stared at Detective Harlan.
"I've been inside this house the entire time."
"I know."
"With sixty witnesses."
"I know."
"Then why are you looking at me like that?"
"Because I need to understand what Crane is claiming."
Vanessa stepped forward.
"Maybe she left and came back."
I turned toward her.
"While I was kneeling in your cake?"
"Before that."
"I arrived at nine twenty-eight."
Marco spoke from the doorway.
"Gate log confirms nine twenty-seven and forty-two seconds."
Vanessa's eyes flashed at him.
"Why are you helping her?"
Marco's face remained calm.
"I'm helping the timeline."
Dominic held out his hand to Harlan.
"What exactly did Crane say?"
Harlan read from his phone.
"He claims Avery confronted him near the north service gate at nine twenty-five, demanded money, and struck him repeatedly when he refused."
I laughed.
I could not help it.
"I was still driving at nine twenty-five."
Harlan nodded.
"Your app GPS should verify that."
Vanessa looked annoyed instead of relieved.
That mattered more than anything she said next.
"Maybe the time is wrong."
"His time or the gate's?" I asked.
"I don't know."
"You seem very invested in making me guilty of something tonight."
"You put me on the floor."
"After you hit me."
"You humiliated me."
There it was.
Not theft.
Not assault.
Humiliation.
The real crime.
Dominic heard it too.
"Vanessa, go upstairs."
She looked at him as if he had slapped her.
"Excuse me?"
"Go upstairs."
"This is my party."
"The party is over."
"You don't get to dismiss me in my own house."
Dominic's face hardened.
"It is my house."
Every person within hearing distance suddenly became fascinated by something else.
Vanessa's mouth tightened.
"Fine."
She turned toward me.
"Enjoy the attention while it lasts."
I said nothing.
She walked out.
Dominic waited until her footsteps faded before looking at Harlan.
"Send someone to Crane now."
"Already done."
"And preserve everything."
"I'm a detective, Dominic."
"Then detect."
Harlan's eyes narrowed.
"Careful."
For a second, the room filled with a different kind of tension.
Old history.
The kind that had nothing to do with me and might still get me crushed between it.
I picked up my keys.
"Can I leave now?"
Harlan looked at me.
"I need your phone location data."
"Take screenshots."
"I may need the device."
"No."
"Ms. Carter—"
"My mother is home alone and medically fragile."
I held the phone against my chest.
"You can look at whatever you need while I'm standing here, but I'm not spending the night without it."
Harlan considered me.
Then he nodded.
"Fair."
Marco found a charger.
The delivery app showed my location with painful precision.
At nine twenty-five, I was three miles south of the estate.
At nine twenty-seven, I entered the gate.
At nine twenty-eight, I parked.
At nine twenty-nine, the app recorded the delivery as complete.
Crane's story collapsed in under four minutes.
Harlan stared at the map.
"Either he's confused from the concussion or he's lying."
"He's lying," I said.
"Probably."
"Why?"
"That's the question."
Dominic stood by the window.
"No."
We looked at him.
"The question is who told him to use her name."
A cold feeling moved through me.
Harlan folded his arms.
"That's one possibility."
"He leaves my house through a blind corridor during a camera outage, his coat has a thread matching the bracelet found in Avery's bag, and ten minutes later he gives a false statement blaming her for injuries she couldn't have caused."
Dominic turned.
"That is not confusion."
Harlan did not disagree.
I looked at the doorway Vanessa had left through.
"Ask him about her."
Dominic's eyes met mine.
"I intend to."
My phone rang again.
This time it was not my mother.
The number belonged to the delivery platform.
I answered.
"Hello?"
A recorded voice asked me to hold for a safety specialist.
My stomach sank.
A woman came on the line.
"Ms. Carter, this is Elise with driver safety."
"Yes."
"We've received a serious complaint regarding an incident during your most recent delivery."
I looked at Vanessa's empty doorway.
"Of course you have."
"The customer reports physical assault, theft, and threatening behavior."
"The police are here right now."
"I understand."
"Do you?"
"Pending review, your driver account has been temporarily deactivated."
For the first time all night, panic beat anger.
"No."
"Ms. Carter—"
"No, you don't understand."
I walked away from the others.
"This is my job."
"The deactivation is temporary while we investigate."
"How long?"
"Most reviews are completed within seven to fourteen business days."
I nearly dropped the phone.
Fourteen business days.
Two weeks without delivery income.
Two weeks of medication, gas, groceries, and insurance still arriving on schedule.
"I can send you the police report."
"Once a case number is available, you can upload supporting documentation through the appeal portal."
"Can you hear yourself?"
The woman paused.
"I'm sorry."
"I know you are."
It came out harsher than she deserved.
I closed my eyes.
"I'm sorry too."
She gave me instructions I barely heard.
Then the call ended.
I stood facing the dark window.
My reflection looked exhausted.
Frosting had dried in my hair near one ear.
A red handprint marked my cheek.
Behind me stood a billionaire, a detective, and the head of private security for a family people feared.
And none of them could change the fact that I might not be able to buy my mother's medication next week.
"What happened?" Dominic asked.
I put my phone in my pocket.
"Nothing."
"Avery."
"My account got suspended."
He looked toward the stairs.
"Because of Vanessa's complaint?"
"Apparently theft and assault are bad for customer ratings."
"I'll handle it."
I turned around.
"No."
"She made the complaint from my house."
"That doesn't make me your problem."
"She became my problem a long time ago."
There was something in his tone I did not understand.
I was too angry to ask.
"I don't want money."
"I didn't offer money."
"You were going to."
"I was going to have my attorney contact the company and preserve the evidence."
I hesitated.
That was annoyingly reasonable.
"Fine."
"Fine?"
"Have your lawyer preserve whatever they need."
"And the lost income?"
"No."
"You were deprived of work because of something that happened here."
"And if you pay me, tomorrow Vanessa tells everyone the poor delivery girl shook down her fiancé after assaulting her."
Dominic's jaw tightened.
"She won't."
"You can't promise that."
"I can promise many things."
"That's exactly what worries me."
Harlan hid a smile by looking down at his notebook.
Dominic noticed.
"Something funny?"
"Not at all."
A uniformed officer entered.
"Detective."
Harlan turned.
"What?"
"Hospital officer just called."
"Crane talking?"
"Not anymore."
"Why?"
"He left."
Harlan stared.
"He has a concussion."
"Signed himself out against medical advice."
"Did anyone pick him up?"
"Security footage shows him walking into the parking lot."
"And then?"
The officer swallowed.
"Camera loses him behind a delivery truck."
Dominic cursed quietly.
Harlan grabbed his coat.
"I'm going to the hospital."
I stepped forward.
"I'm coming."
"No."
"He used my name."
"Exactly why you're not coming."
"He knows something about my father."
Harlan stopped.
I saw the answer before he gave it.
"Doesn't he?"
Harlan looked at Dominic.
Dominic looked back.
Neither man spoke.
My blood went cold.
"What did Elliot Crane have to do with my father?"
Harlan sighed.
"Eight years ago, Crane was the junior financial controller for Whitmore Industrial."
My throat tightened.
Whitmore Industrial.
The company whose warehouse had collapsed on my father.
I had seen the name on insurance letters, settlement documents, and one cheap plastic hard hat my mother kept in a box with Dad's things.
I stared toward the stairs where Vanessa had disappeared.
"Her family's company killed my father."
Harlan chose his words carefully.
"Your father died at one of their facilities."
"And Elliot Crane worked there."
"Yes."
"And tonight he planted her bracelet in my bag?"
"We don't know that."
"Then he lies and says I attacked him."
"Yes."
"And Vanessa has been requesting me to this house for seven weeks."
Nobody answered.
I looked at Dominic.
"Did you know?"
"Not until you said your father's full name."
"What did Marco know?"
Marco stood near the door.
His face had gone gray.
"Enough to recognize it."
"Enough is not an answer."
He looked at Dominic.
Dominic gave the smallest nod.
Marco exhaled.
"Your father came to the Moretti organization three days before he died."
The floor seemed to tilt.
"Why?"
Marco's voice lowered.
"Because Daniel Carter believed someone at Whitmore Industrial was stealing millions through a construction shell company."
I could barely hear him over my own heartbeat.
"What shell company?"
Marco hesitated.
Then he said the name.
"Moretti Logistics."
I looked at Dominic.
He did not look away.
And suddenly my father's industrial accident had a second name attached to it.
May you like
Moretti.
