Chapter 3 - The Trap is Sprung
"Where is he?" I asked, my voice steadying as the instinct to protect my children washed over me.
"Derek has spent the last three hours at a casino hotel near the airport," Detective Vance explained, pulling out a notepad. "He bought a one-way ticket to South America departing at 6:00 AM tomorrow. He's currently sitting in the lounge, drinking scotch, likely waiting for the warehouse night shift to 'discover' your body at 7:00 AM."
Ethan stepped forward, resting his hands on his cane. "He has already filed a preliminary claim with his life insurance provider via his laptop. He timed it right after he left the warehouse."
A cold, bitter laugh escaped my lips. "He really thought it was that easy. He thought he could freeze us to death and just fly away."
"He doesn't know you're alive," Ethan said, a slow, lethal smile spreading across his face. "He thinks you're still locked in that room. He thinks the police are going to call him tomorrow morning with tragic news."
I looked from Ethan to the detectives. "Then let's give him the phone call he's waiting for."
Detective Vance nodded. "If we arrest him now at the casino, his lawyers might argue it was an accident or a misunderstanding regarding the freezer door. But if we catch him actively executing the fraud and admitting to the act on a recorded line, he will spend the rest of his life in a federal prison."
"What do you need me to do?" I asked, looking down at my babies.
"We need you to call him," Ethan said gently. "My team has tapped his personal line. The police are waiting outside his hotel room right now. All you have to do, Olivia, is make him say why he locked that door."
Ten minutes later, the police set up a digital recording rig beside my hospital bed. Detective Vance gave me a nod.
I took a deep breath, channeled every ounce of pain, betrayal, and strength within my soul, and pressed the dial button on the hospital phone.
The line rang three times.
"Hello?" Derek's voice answered. He sounded relaxed, cheerful, the distinct clinking of ice in a glass audible in the background.
May you like
I let out a ragged, trembling breath, making my voice sound faint, weak, and terrified—exactly as he would expect a dying woman to sound.
"Derek..." I whispered into the receiver. "Please... it's so cold... I can't feel my legs..."
