Chapter 4 - The Jailhouse VisitThe visitor consultation room inside the maximum-security wing of the County Jail smelled of industrial bleach, stale sweat, and iron.
Sitting behind a heavy panel of reinforced bulletproof glass was Daniel Vance.
He looked completely hollowed out. His tailored suit had been replaced by a bright orange institutional jumpsuit, his wrists bound in heavy steel handcuffs attached to a waist chain. His hair was disheveled, dark purple circles carved deep beneath his bloodshot eyes, his manicured hands trembling against the stainless-steel counter.
I sat down on the swivel chair on the other side of the glass, placing the acoustic phone receiver to my ear.
Daniel grabbed his receiver with both hands, pressing his face close to the glass, his voice coming through the small speaker in a frantic, whimpering rasp.
“Claire! Claire, thank God you came!” Daniel wept, tears spilling over his lashes, cutting clean tracks through the grime on his cheeks. “You have to help me! You have to talk to the DA! The public defender told me they’re charging me with Attempted Murder in the First Degree! They’re talking about twenty-five years to life, Claire!”
I looked at him with an absolute, terrifying stillness. My face held zero anger, zero grief, and zero pity.
“You tried to poison my wine, Daniel,” I stated softly through the receiver.
“It was Vanessa!” Daniel shrieked, his voice cracking into a pathetic, desperate squeak. “I swear to you on my life, Claire, it was all Vanessa! She manipulated me! She told me you were going to take half the business in a divorce! She brought the powder! She made me stand there!”
“You asked her if it was enough, Daniel,” I reminded him, every word dropping like a lead weight onto glass. “I was standing behind the velvet curtain. I heard you whisper, 'Is that enough?' And you watched her pour it into my glass.”
Daniel froze. The color completely drained from his face, leaving his skin a pale, mottled gray.
“You... you heard that...?” he whispered, his jaw sagging open in terror.
“I recorded it, Daniel,” I revealed, holding up my phone against the bulletproof glass, displaying the audio file waveform that had already been authenticated by the state crime lab. “Every single word was captured on my secondary microphone. The jury will hear your voice whispering those exact words before the trial even reaches opening statements.”
Daniel’s hands slipped from the glass counter. He collapsed back into his metal chair, his chest heaving in wild, shallow gasps as the terrifying, inescapable reality of his fate settled onto his shoulders.
“Why... why are you doing this to me, Claire?” he whimpered, clutching his head in his hands. “We were married for five years! I loved you!”
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“You didn't love me, Daniel,” I whispered softly into the phone. “You loved having a trophy wife who stayed quiet while you stole her money. But you forgot who I was before I wore your ring.”
I set the phone receiver back onto its brass hook, stood up from the swivel chair, and turned my back on him forever as the corrections officers dragged his crying, broken body back into the dark corridors of the prison.
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