Chapter 8 - The Witness Who Lied
Her name was Patricia Cole.
I had called her Aunt Patty my entire childhood.
She spent Christmases with us.
She helped Mom choose my prom dress.
She sat in the front row at Mom's funeral.
And now she was testifying for Vivian.
Patricia claimed Mom had become frightened of me after the accident insurance policy was updated.
She said I had financial problems.
I didn't.
She claimed Mom planned to remove me from the will.
She hadn't.
Then Vivian's lawyer produced text messages.
Messages supposedly sent by Mom.
Claire only cares about the money.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm safe around her.
The jury read them.
I felt physically sick.
The prosecution requested a recess.
Reyes found me outside.
“They're fake.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Mom never called me Claire in texts.”
He frowned.
“What?”
“She called me C.”
Every message.
Every birthday card.
Every grocery reminder.
C.
Always.
Never Claire.
We handed Mom's phone backups to forensic analysts.
They discovered the truth within hours.
The messages had been fabricated after Mom died.
Patricia had received $75,000 from Vivian.
When confronted, she broke.
Vivian had promised to pay her debts if she testified.
Patricia was arrested for perjury.
The defense's surprise witness became another prosecution witness.
By the end of the week, Vivian's case was collapsing.
Then Eddie Pike took the stand.
He described the night he entered Mom's garage.
He described Vivian giving him the key.
He described cutting the brake line.
And he described asking Vivian whether anyone could die.
Her answer:
“That's the point.”
Vivian stared straight ahead.
I stared at my hands.
I didn't need to hear more.
But the prosecutor asked the question anyway.
“Who was the intended victim?”
Eddie looked toward me.
“Elena.”
“And Claire?”
He swallowed.
“Vivian said if Claire was in the car, that solved another problem.”
Thomas grabbed my hand.
I closed my eyes.
The jury heard everything.
Then it was my turn.
I rolled to the witness stand.
Vivian watched me.
Her lawyer tried to make me angry.
He asked about pain medication.
Memory loss.
My work in insurance investigations.
He suggested I had used my professional knowledge to build a case against Vivian because I hated her.
I answered calmly.
Then he asked:
“Isn't it true that you financially benefited from your mother's death?”
The courtroom went silent.
“Yes.”
He seemed surprised.
“You received her estate?”
“Yes.”
“And insurance?”
“Yes.”
“So you had motive.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
I looked at the jury.
“Because I would give every dollar back to have one more breakfast with my mother.”
No one moved.
I turned toward Vivian.
“She thought money was the most important thing Mom left me.”
My voice trembled.
“She was wrong.”
The prosecutor's closing argument lasted two hours.
The jury deliberated for nine.
At 8:17 p.m., they returned.
Guilty.
Conspiracy to commit murder.
Murder.
Attempted murder.
Financial crimes.
Witness tampering.
More charges followed.
Vivian didn't cry.
Not until the judge ordered her held for sentencing.
Then she looked at me.
“Elena loved you more.”
It wasn't an apology.
It was the closest thing to truth she'd spoken.
“Yes,” I said.
“She did.”
And Vivian finally understood what she had never been able to steal.
But outside the courthouse, Reyes was waiting with another piece of news.
The recovered $900,000 had exposed additional stolen accounts.
Millions of dollars.
Some belonged to strangers.
Vivian and Vale hadn't only stolen from Mom.
They had spent years stealing from vulnerable clients.
Including widows.
Elderly people.
And accident victims.
There were dozens of them.
Mom's murder investigation had uncovered something much larger.
May you like
And suddenly, finishing what she started wasn't only about our family anymore.
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