Chapter 13 - THE SECOND FRAME
The murder victim was Raymond Cole.
Daniel stared at the detective.
“That’s impossible.”
Raymond had died twenty minutes earlier.
Someone had injected potassium into his IV.
Hospital security video showed a man entering Raymond’s room wearing a baseball cap and work jacket.
The man’s face was hidden.
But the jacket belonged to Daniel.
Police had found it in Daniel’s motel room.
Margaret felt rage burn through her.
“This is a setup.”
The detective looked uncomfortable.
“There’s more.”
“What?”
“Mr. Cole had skin under his fingernails.”
Daniel went still.
“DNA?”
“Yes.”
The detective looked at him.
“Preliminary match to you.”
Daniel laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because the lie was too big.
“I haven’t seen Raymond in eighteen years.”
Margaret looked at Ortega.
“Can DNA be planted?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Hair. Blood. Skin cells. Lots of ways.”
Daniel’s face suddenly changed.
“The fight.”
“What?”
“When Grant grabbed Lily at the foundation, I hit him. My hand split.”
He showed his knuckles.
“Blood everywhere.”
Ortega understood.
“Someone collected it.”
Police moved forward.
Lily screamed.
“No!”
Daniel crouched.
“Hey. Look at me.”
“No, Daddy!”
“Look at me.”
She did.
“I’m coming back.”
“You said that before.”
Daniel’s face broke.
Margaret turned away so Lily wouldn’t see her cry.
Daniel hugged her.
Then he looked at Margaret.
“Don’t let them take her.”
“They won’t.”
“Promise.”
“I promise.”
The cuffs clicked shut.
Daniel was arrested again.
This time for murder.
That afternoon, District Attorney Paul Mercer held a press conference.
He called Daniel “a dangerous man desperate to silence witnesses.”
Margaret watched on television.
Then shut it off.
“Bastard.”
Ortega raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that.”
“You should’ve known me in college.”
They had one chance.
Break the frame.
Ortega reviewed hospital footage frame by frame.
At 2:13 a.m., the fake nurse entered.
At 2:17, he left.
At 2:19, another camera caught his shoe.
Custom black leather.
A silver buckle.
Margaret had seen those shoes.
Grant wore them to court.
But a shoe wasn’t enough.
Then Lily spoke from behind them.
“That’s the man.”
Margaret turned.
“What?”
Lily pointed at the screen.
“The man from the motel.”
“You saw him?”
“He was outside when Grandma went into our room.”
Ortega crouched.
“Sweetheart, are you sure?”
Lily nodded.
“He had a snake on his hand.”
“A tattoo?”
She nodded.
Ortega pulled up a staff photograph from the foundation website.
Grant’s private security chief, Mason Pike.
On his right hand was a black snake tattoo.
Margaret smiled coldly.
They had a face.
They had a name.
And when police went to arrest Mason Pike, they found his apartment empty.
On the kitchen table sat a gasoline receipt.
May you like
Purchased that morning.
The address written on the back was Margaret’s house.
