Part 4: The Turning Point
Elena didn’t go to the nearest precinct. She went to the 19th Precinct in the Upper East Side, where her father had donated heavily to the policeman’s benevolent fund, and where Detective Miller, an old friend of the family, worked.
Detective Miller was a tired-looking man with a skepticism carved into his face, but he listened.
They sat in an interview room that smelled of stale coffee. Elena placed her phone on the metal table.
“He’s trying to kill me,” Elena said.
“That’s a heavy accusation, Mrs. Sterling,” Miller said. “Usually, these things are domestic disputes. Money arguments.”
“It is about money,” Elena said. “All of it.”
Sarah stepped forward. “Show him the video, Elena.”
“Video?” Miller asked. “I thought you had an audio recording.”
“Sarah recorded the audio,” Elena said. ” But Mark… Mark is arrogant. He thinks he’s smarter than everyone.”
Elena opened her laptop, which she had pulled from her carry-on. She logged into the cloud account for the home security system.
“Mark installed cameras everywhere,” Elena explained. “To ‘protect’ us. He controls the master feed. He thinks he’s the only one with the password.”
She typed in a string of characters.
“But he forgets that I pay the bills. I recovered the admin password last month when the Wi-Fi went down.”
She clicked on the file labeled STUDY – 4:00 PM.
The video loaded.
It was high-definition. It showed Mark pacing the room. It showed the man with the neck tattoo.
But then, Mark did something that made Detective Miller sit up straight.
On the screen, Mark unlocked the wall safe—the one Elena thought only contained her jewelry. He pulled out a black pistol. He checked the chamber, racked the slide, and tucked it into his waistband.
Then, he turned to the stranger.
“If the Colombia plan fails,” Mark said, his face clearly visible in 4K resolution, “we do it the messy way. I’ll report her missing tonight. Say she took a car service and never arrived. Then… you visit the house. Make it look like a break-in gone wrong.”
“And the wife?” the stranger asked.
Mark looked directly at a framed photo of their wedding day on his desk. He picked it up and smashed it face-down on the wood.
“There is no wife,” Mark said. “Only a widow.”
Detective Miller stood up. The skepticism was gone.
“That’s conspiracy to commit capital murder,” Miller said. He grabbed his radio. “Dispatch, I need a location on a suspect. Mark Sterling. Ping his cell phone. Now.”
“He’s at JFK,” Elena said. Her voice was steady, terrifyingly calm. “He’s looking for me.”
“We’ll pick him up,” Miller said. “Mrs. Sterling, you and your sister stay here. You’re in protective custody.”
“No,” Elena said.
Miller paused. “Excuse me?”
“He has my passport. He has my ID. He thinks I’m a helpless socialite who can’t tie her own shoes without him,” Elena said. “If he sees police, he’ll run. He’ll ditch the gun. He’ll call his lawyer. You need to catch him in the act.”
“What are you suggesting?”
Elena picked up her phone. Her hand hovered over the ‘Call’ button.
“I’m going to tell him I’m waiting for him.”
