Chapter 9 - The Poison Evidence
"Order in this court!" Judge Vance-Holt banged her gavel, but her voice lacked authority. Her eyes darted nervously between Evelyn and me. "Mrs. Vance! You are interrupting an official proceeding. Bailiffs, secure the—"
"Touch me, and you'll be answering to the Department of Justice by noon, Judge," Marcus Croft’s voice boomed from the entrance.
Croft stepped through the doors, flashing a federal credentials badge from the U.S. Attorney’s Office alongside two plainclothes investigators.
"Marcus Croft," the judge stammered, freezing. "You have no standing here."
"I have standing as special counsel appointed to the Arthur Vance Estate trust investigation," Croft replied, walking briskly toward the bench. He dropped a thick stack of manila folders onto the prosecutor's table with a resounding thud.
"What is the meaning of this?" the prosecutor demanded.
"That," Croft pointed, "is a certified forensic toxicologist’s report from Massachusetts General Hospital, completed forty minutes ago. The prescription prenatal vitamins taken from Clara Vance’s bathroom contain lethal concentrations of Methotrexate."
The gallery exploded into murmurs. Julian looked up, his bloodshot eyes locking onto mine. A tear broke through the grim line of his face, his lips mouthing: *You’re alive.*
"Furthermore," Croft continued, his voice cutting through the rising chatter, "we have retrieved security footage from the pharmacy on Newbury Street from four days ago. It shows Miss Megan Vance paying the chief pharmacist five thousand dollars in cash for an unregistered vial of the compound."
Megan jumped to her feet. "That’s a lie! That’s an altered video! Mother, tell them!"
"Sit down, Megan!" Evelyn hissed, though her own composure was fracturing.
"I’m not finished," Croft said, turning his gaze toward Detective Marcus Ray, who stood frozen near the jury box. "At 1:15 AM today, Detective Ray logged a cloud storage server into precinct evidence. At 1:40 AM, he accessed the server room with an unauthorized magnetic wand to corrupt the footage of the staircase assault. Too bad for him, the system automatically mirrored to an off-site secondary server in Vermont."
Croft pulled a tablet from his briefcase, plugged it into the courtroom AV monitor, and pressed play.
The high-definition video lit up the courtroom screens.
The push was undeniable. Megan’s hands planting into my back. My violent, twisting fall. And then, Megan’s cold, emotionless face plucking the folio and typing the text message:
*She’s broken. Execute the transfer.*
The silence that followed was total.
Judge Vance-Holt looked at the screen, then at Evelyn, then at the prosecutor. She cleared her throat, her face flushed with embarrassment.
"All charges against Julian Vance are dismissed with prejudice," the judge ruled, her gavel cracking down like a rifle shot. "Bailiffs, remand Megan Vance into custody immediately on charges of attempted murder."
Two officers moved toward Megan.
"Don't touch me!" Megan shrieked, backing away toward the railing. "Mother! DO SOMETHING!"
Evelyn didn't move. She didn't look at Megan. She sat entirely still, her eyes fixed on me with a hatred so deep, so bottomless, it made the hairs on my arms stand up.
"You think this is over, Clara?" Evelyn whispered as Megan was tackled to the carpet and cuffed in front of the flashing cameras.
May you like
"No, Evelyn," I said, leaning down until my face was inches from hers. "It’s just getting expensive for you."
***
