Chapter 11 - DEREK’S DEAL
Derek Sloan asked for an attorney before saying anything.
For nine hours, he remained silent.
Then police showed him Natalie alive.
Everything changed.
Detective Pierce later described the moment to Ethan.
Derek stared at the photograph.
He began crying.
Then he asked one question.
“Did Corinne hurt her?”
Pierce refused to answer.
Derek requested a deal.
Prosecutors entered negotiations.
Ethan hated the idea.
“He helped kill Mara.”
“Potentially.”
Pierce corrected him.
“He admitted interfering with her car.”
“That’s helping kill her.”
“The legal charges will depend on intent, causation, and evidence.”
“He should rot.”
Pierce looked at Ethan.
“That may still happen.”
“Then why give him anything?”
“Because Derek can give us Corinne.”
Ethan walked away.
He understood the logic.
He still hated it.
Derek’s statement lasted six hours.
He admitted moving money.
Creating false invoices.
Assisting with identity fraud.
Helping Evelyn keep Natalie hidden.
Interfering with Mara’s vehicle.
He denied intending to kill her.
According to Derek, Corinne told him to create a failure that would force Mara to stop driving and miss her meeting with Leah.
Derek claimed he believed the vehicle would become difficult to operate but not uncontrollable.
Investigators did not fully accept his explanation.
Neither did Ethan.
But Derek provided something more important.
Messages.
He had kept an old phone.
Corinne believed it had been destroyed.
It contained years of texts.
One message was sent at 5:11 p.m. on the day Mara died.
Corinne.
Did you handle the car?
Derek.
Yes.
Corinne.
Will she make it to Leah?
Derek.
She shouldn’t drive it at all.
Corinne.
That isn’t what I asked.
Derek.
I’m done.
Corinne.
You’re done when I say.
Ethan read the exchange with shaking hands.
Another message arrived thirty-four minutes later.
Derek.
She left.
Corinne.
Good.
Derek.
Weather is bad.
Corinne.
Even better.
Ethan stopped.
He pushed the phone transcript away.
“That’s enough.”
Pierce said nothing.
Ethan stood near the interview-room window.
“What time did Mara crash?”
“6:18.”
“What time was that message?”
“5:49.”
“She knew the weather was dangerous.”
“Yes.”
“And she sent Mara out in a vehicle she knew had been interfered with.”
“That appears to be what happened.”
Ethan turned.
“Appears?”
Pierce allowed the anger.
Then continued.
“There is one more message.”
Ethan did not want to read it.
He did anyway.
6:31 p.m.
Derek.
There was an accident.
Corinne.
How bad?
Derek.
I don’t know.
Corinne.
Find out.
7:02 p.m.
Derek.
She’s dead.
Three minutes passed before Corinne replied.
Delete everything.
Ethan stared.
No grief.
No shock.
No hesitation.
Delete everything.
Pierce placed another page down.
Derek wrote.
What have we done?
Corinne answered.
You did your job.
Ethan closed his eyes.
There it was.
Not a perfect confession.
But close enough to feel like one.
“What did Derek say about Corinne now?”
“He says she has one objective.”
“What?”
“Leave the country.”
“With what money?”
“Accounts we haven’t frozen.”
“Where?”
“He doesn’t know all of them.”
“Does Evelyn?”
“Probably.”
“Is Evelyn talking?”
“No.”
Ethan laughed bitterly.
“Of course not.”
Pierce leaned back.
“Derek gave us something else.”
“What?”
“A storage-unit number.”
Ethan frowned.
“Where?”
“Near the airport.”
“What’s inside?”
“We’re obtaining the warrant.”
The storage unit opened the next morning.
Police found cash.
Foreign currency.
Jewelry.
Three laptops.
Several phones.
And a box labeled M.
Mara.
Inside were recordings Corinne had made during the months before Mara’s death.
Some captured arguments.
Others captured private conversations between Mara and Ethan.
Corinne had bugged their home.
The discovery made Ethan physically ill.
He listened to only one recording.
Mara and Ethan were lying in bed.
Their voices were soft.
Maisie had been sick that night.
Mara whispered.
“Do you think we’re good parents?”
Ethan laughed.
“No.”
Mara laughed too.
“That was fast.”
“I think good parents probably know what they’re doing.”
“So what are we?”
“Terrified amateurs.”
Mara laughed harder.
Then Ethan said.
“But I know one thing.”
“What?”
“Maisie will never doubt she’s loved.”
Ethan stopped the recording.
For nearly two years, Corinne had worked to make Maisie doubt exactly that.
He could not listen further.
Detectives did.
One recording captured Corinne entering the bedroom after Ethan and Mara left.
She spoke on the phone.
“Still happy.”
A pause.
“I know.”
Another pause.
“Not for long.”
The call occurred four months before Mara died.
The pattern was no longer speculation.
Corinne had monitored the marriage.
Studied it.
Resented it.
Then dismantled it.
Investigators found a journal belonging to Corinne.
Unlike Mara’s careful notes, Corinne’s writing was erratic.
Some pages discussed money.
Others discussed Ethan.
Mara does not appreciate how he looks at her.
She wastes everything.
Maisie should have been mine.
Ethan stopped when Pierce read that line.
“What does that mean?”
“We don’t know.”
“Was she pregnant?”
“No evidence.”
“Then why would she write that?”
Pierce turned another page.
This one contained a date.
The day Maisie was born.
Corinne had written.
She got the daughter too.
Ethan’s skin crawled.
Corinne saw his family as something stolen from her.
A life she believed Mara did not deserve.
Then Pierce reached the final relevant entry.
If Mara disappears, Ethan will break.
Broken men need someone.
I can be someone.
Ethan looked away.
Corinne had not simply taken advantage of his grief.
She had anticipated it.
Designed for it.
Perhaps even created it.
The search for Corinne intensified.
Airport alerts.
Border notifications.
Financial monitoring.
Company security.
Still nothing.
Then a transaction hit one of the hidden accounts.
$4,000 withdrawn from an ATM in a small town called Riverside.
The surveillance camera showed a woman wearing a hood.
Her face was partially hidden.
But a distinctive scar near her thumb matched Corinne.
Police moved.
By the time they reached the motel tied to the withdrawal, the room was empty.
A maid found hair dye in the bathroom.
Scissors.
Burned documents.
And a child’s photograph.
Maisie.
Written across the back were three words.
SHE BELONGS WITH ME.
Ethan read them once.
Then looked at Pierce.
“She’s coming for my daughter.”
May you like
Pierce did not disagree.
---
