Chapter 5 - The Voice on the Other End of the Call Reveals Her Identity
The name Evelyn Cross hit me like a physical blow.
Evelyn. She had been at our house for Thanksgiving. She had brought Noah a state-of-the-art drone for his fourteenth birthday. She had sat across from me at our dining room table, sipping my homemade sangria, laughing at my jokes, and complementing the family photos hanging on our gallery wall.
“You’re so lucky, Sarah,” Evelyn had told me with that polished, porcelain smile of hers. “Daniel talks about you and Noah constantly at the office. You’re his absolute rock.”
She wasn't just his business partner. She was the woman on the phone.
"The phone call," I said, breathing heavily as the pieces snapped into place. "When Daniel said 'It's done... soon they will both be gone,' he was talking to Evelyn."
Detective Miller pulled up a digital printout of the carrier logs. "We cross-referenced Daniel’s burner phone, which my team found discarded in a storm drain two blocks from your house. The last outgoing call was made at 7:42 PM to a prepaid cell registered under a shell corporation owned by Cross Holdings."
"Can you arrest her right now?" I asked urgently.
ADA Marcus sighed, running a hand through her hair. "It's complicated, Sarah. Evelyn is the daughter of Judge Julian Cross. She has an elite legal defense team already monitoring the precinct. The phone call alone doesn't mention poison explicitly. Daniel’s lawyer is claiming the conversation was about finalizing a confidential corporate acquisition that required Daniel to work late."
"And the Vecuronium?" I asked. "Where did a hedge fund manager get surgical paralytics?"
"Evelyn’s younger brother is Dr. Vincent Cross, Chief of Anesthesiology at St. Jude’s Surgical Center," Miller revealed grimly. "Two vials of Vecuronium were reported 'missing from inventory' due to an administrative logging error three weeks ago. We’re working on the warrant to search the hospital's digital access logs, but the Cross family has deep political roots in this county. They are fighting every subpoena."
Just then, the glass door to our hospital room swung open. My sister, Clara, burst in, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. She rushed over, throwing her arms around me and sobbing uncontrollably.
"Oh God, Sarah! I saw the news! They’re saying Daniel was questioned for domestic violence and poisoning!" Clara cried, trembling. "How could this happen? How could he do this to you and Noah?"
"Clara, breathe. We’re okay. We're safe," I reassured her, holding her tightly.
Clara pulled back, wiping her mascara-stained cheeks, and looked at Detective Miller. "You have to keep him locked up. You can't let him out!"
"That's our priority, ma'am," Miller said.
Suddenly, Miller’s radio squawked at his hip. He picked it up, pressing the receiver to his ear. As he listened, his expression transformed from focused determination to absolute fury.
"What do you mean the magistrate signed it?" Miller barked into the radio. "He's a flight risk! There's a forged five-million-dollar insurance policy and a one-way ticket to Zurich!"
He paused, listening to the static response, then cursed loudly, slamming the radio back onto his belt.
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"What happened?" I asked, a cold dread sinking into my stomach.
"Daniel’s high-powered defense team found a sympathetic emergency magistrate," Miller said through gritted teeth. "They posted a two-million-dollar cash bond courtesy of Cross Holdings. Daniel Vance just walked out of the central detention facility on bail."
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