Chapter 5 - The Investigation Begins
Within fifteen minutes, the quiet suburban street was bathed in red and blue flashing lights. Two police cruisers and an ambulance sat idling in our driveway.
Detective Sarah Miller, a stern-faced woman with sharp gray eyes, led the investigation. While paramedics checked Ethan and Claire—confirming that Ethan hadn't ingested enough of the steak to suffer toxicity, though Claire was advised to go to the hospital for a full toxicology screening—officers secured the scene.
The ziplock bag containing the steak, the silver pill crusher, and the two prescription bottles were carefully cataloged as evidence. Margaret was escorted out of the house in handcuffs. As she walked past the front porch, she didn't look at me or Ben. She kept her chin held high, maintaining her terrifying delusion of superiority until the cruiser door shut behind her.
In the living room, Detective Miller sat down across from me, Ben, and Claire.
“Mr. Vance,” Detective Miller said, opening her notebook. “The preliminary field test on the powder in the silver crusher confirms the presence of concentrated Digitalis glycosides. If your son or wife had consumed that entire portion of meat, the dosage would likely have been fatal within hours.”
Claire covered her face with her hands, sobbing silently. I pulled her into my arms, holding her tightly, feeling the violent shudders racking her frame.
“We also noted the name on the prescription bottle,” Miller continued, looking at Ben and me. “Arthur Vance. Your father?”
“Yes,” I said, my voice hoarse. “He passed away four years ago. The cause of death was listed as cardiac arrest brought on by organ failure.”
“Given the circumstances,” Detective Miller said quietly, “we are going to request an exhumation order for your father’s remains. If there are traces of Digitalis in his bone tissue or remaining hair samples, this will become a dual homicide investigation.”
Ben put his head in his hands, weeping openly. The horror of what our family had lived through—and the realization that our father had been murdered by the woman he trusted—was a burden almost too heavy to bear.
“We need you both to come to the station tomorrow to give formal statements,” Detective Miller said, standing up. “For tonight, I suggest you get some rest. And Mrs. Vance,” she added, looking at Claire, “the paramedics want to take you to the emergency room for a full blood panel to assess how much toxin is currently in your system from prior exposures.”
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“I’m going with you,” I told Claire immediately.
We left Ethan in the safe, capable care of my brother Ben and his wife, who had arrived shortly after the police. As Claire and I walked out to the ambulance, the cold November air hit my face, bringing a sudden, sharp clarity. The nightmare was far from over, but the monster in our home had finally been exposed.
