Chapter 11 - THE RECORDER IN ROSA'S POCKET
"Bag it."
The recorder was taken to the lab.
It contained four hours of audio.
The funeral.
The ambulance.
The hospital hallway.
And something else.
A voice recorded before Rosa ever arrived at the funeral home.
Thomas.
Martin Shaw.
And the funeral director, Colin Webb.
Webb said, "I don't like this."
Thomas replied, "You don't have to like it."
Martin said, "Once the certificate is filed, Grant becomes acting trustee."
Webb whispered, "And if she wakes?"
Thomas answered, "She won't."
Grant listened without moving.
Then Martin said the sentence that changed the case.
"If she does, Rosa takes the fall."
"What?"
The recording continued.
Thomas: "The maid has access to her medications."
Martin: "She also argued with Vivian last week."
Rosa's mouth fell open.
She had argued with Vivian.
About vacation days.
A normal disagreement.
They had planned to frame her.
That explained the recorder.
Someone planted it to gather enough snippets to make her look involved.
Brooks said, "They wanted you close to the body."
"Instead I opened the coffin."
"You saved her."
"I almost didn't."
"You did."
The lab found Martin Shaw's fingerprint on the recorder.
Police went to his house.
Empty.
His car was found at the train station.
But security footage showed he never boarded.
Instead, he entered a black SUV registered to the Mercer Medical Foundation.
The SUV drove east.
Toward a private airfield.
Brooks alerted state police.
Then Grant's phone rang.
Unknown number.
Martin.
Grant answered on speaker.
"You should have left the coffin closed."
Grant's expression became cold.
"Where are you?"
"Doesn't matter."
"What do you want?"
"A deal."
"You don't have anything I need."
"You still don't know who actually injected Vivian."
Thomas had the syringe.
Adrian had access.
Elise knew.
But none of them had admitted giving the first dose.
Martin continued.
"I know."
Grant said, "Tell me."
"Bring me Box 418."
Then the call ended.
May you like
"The box is empty."
"But Martin doesn't know that."
