Chapter 4
At the station, Detective Greene placed a folder in front of me.
My father’s handwriting was on the label.
For Olivia.
My hands shook before I opened it.
Inside were copies of bank transfers.
Medical records.
A handwritten letter.
Photos of prescription bottles.
And a printed email from Claire.
Dad, you are confused again. Stop asking questions before Olivia thinks you are losing your mind.
My throat closed.
Detective Greene sat across from me.
“Your father wanted you to see this only after you requested the casket.”
“Why?”
“Because he believed you would doubt yourself if he told you too soon. He thought Claire had spent months making you feel unstable.”
I laughed once.
A broken sound.
“She did.”
Claire had told me Dad was becoming paranoid.
That he forgot conversations.
That he accused her of stealing because pain medication made him suspicious.
When I called Dad, Claire often answered.
“He’s sleeping.”
“He’s confused today.”
“Don’t upset him.”
I had believed some of it.
Because Dad had sounded tired when I spoke to him.
Because grief had already started before he was gone.
Because Claire was older, sharper, more forceful.
The folder proved Dad had not been confused.
He had been drugged.
Detective Greene pointed to a lab report.
“Your father’s bloodwork showed a sedative not prescribed to him. Small amounts over time. Then a larger dose the night he collapsed.”
I whispered, “In the tea.”
“Yes.”
Robert sat beside me, rigid.
“She was poisoning him slowly.”
“That is the working theory.”
The handwritten letter was last.
Liv,
If you are reading this, then I am sorry.
Sorry for letting Claire speak louder than you.
Sorry for making you feel like you had to earn the right to ask questions.
I suspected her, but I did not want to believe my own daughter could do this. That hesitation almost killed me.
You were always the one who noticed when something was wrong.
Trust that part of yourself.
Dad
I pressed the letter to my chest and cried.
Not polite tears.
Not funeral tears.
Real, ugly, shaking tears.
The kind Claire had not shed once.
Detective Greene waited.
Robert put a hand on my back.
When I could breathe again, I asked, “Can I see him?”
The detective nodded.
“After we finish your statement.”
“What about Claire?”
“She is being questioned.”
“Will she be arrested?”
May you like
Detective Greene’s eyes hardened.
“Yes.”
