Chapter 4 - Confession on Tape
On the other end of the line, the sound of ice clinking abruptly stopped.
"Olivia?!" Derek hissed, his voice dropping into a panicked, furious whisper. "How do you have a phone?! You left it in the car!"
"I... I found an old emergency handset on the wall..." I gasped out, pretending to slur my words as if fading into unconsciousness. "Derek... please come back... the babies are stopping... they aren't kicking anymore... why did you lock the door?"
A heavy, irritated sigh came through the speaker. Derek wasn't sad. He wasn't guilty. He was simply annoyed that his perfect murder was taking longer than planned.
"You should have just gone to sleep, Olivia," Derek sneered quietly, stepping into a quiet hallway in his hotel to avoid being overheard. "Why do you always have to make things so difficult? Do you have any idea what kind of pressure I've been under? Four hundred grand to the wrong people! They threatened to break my legs!"
"You... you killed us... for money?" I whimpered.
"Two million dollars, Olivia!" Derek barked softly. "It was the only way out! You were supposed to be dead an hour ago at -50 degrees! Just close your eyes and stop fighting it! Nobody is coming to help you!"
"I am," a cold, booming voice interrupted.
Ethan Cole stepped up to the microphone attached to the recorder, his silver eyes flashing with pure fury.
"What?!" Derek gasped over the phone, suddenly realizing something was horribly wrong. "Who is that?!"
"It's Ethan Cole, Derek," Ethan said smoothly into the mic. "And while you've been sipping scotch at the airport casino, your wife was rescued, your twins were born healthy, and the LAPD Major Crimes unit has been listening to every single word of your confession."
"No... no, this is a setup! Olivia is dead!" Derek panicked, the sound of his heavy footsteps echoing as he began to run down the hotel corridor. "You're lying!"
"Check your doorway, Derek," Detective Vance said into the line.
Through the phone, we heard the loud, thunderous slam of heavy boots, followed by the sharp crack of a hotel room door being kicked off its hinges.
"LAPD! ON THE GROUND! DON'T MOVE!" shouted a dozen police officers through the speaker.
Derek’s terrified shrieks filled the line, followed by the clatter of his dropped phone, the sharp metallic click of handcuffs, and the heavy thud of his body being slammed onto the carpet.
"Got him," a officer’s voice came through the open line. "Suspect in custody."
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I slowly hung up the phone. The room fell into a quiet, peaceful silence. I leaned back against my pillows, tears of pure relief washing over my face as Ethan gently wiped them away with a tissue.
"It's over, Olivia," Ethan whispered. "He will never touch you or your children ever again."
