Chapter 7
The arrests happened just before sunrise.
Marcus was stopped outside a private airport north of the city.
Elaine was with him.
They had luggage.
Cash.
And travel documents.
Detective Price called while I was sitting beside the hotel window.
I hadn't slept.
"Nia, we have them."
For a moment, I didn't understand.
"Who?"
"Marcus and Elaine are in custody."
My knees weakened.
I sat on the edge of the bed.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
I pressed my free hand over my mouth.
Renee looked up.
"What happened?"
I whispered, "They caught him."
She started crying.
I did too.
But my tears were different this time.
They weren't only grief.
They were relief.
For the first time since Maya died, I knew Marcus couldn't simply walk through a door and stand in front of me.
He couldn't demand that I listen.
He couldn't take my phone.
He couldn't tell me what I remembered.
He was behind bars.
Detective Price explained that the financial investigation was moving quickly.
Investigators had obtained banking records, communications, and business documents.
Several employees were cooperating.
Elaine's office had been searched.
Marcus's company accounts were frozen.
But one question remained.
Who had been driving when Maya was struck?
I asked it immediately.
Detective Price didn't pretend to have an answer.
"We're still building that part of the case."
I stared out the window.
The sky was turning pink.
Maya loved mornings like that.
She used to photograph the sunrise and send it to me with ridiculous captions.
Look, Mom. The sky finally understands my favorite color.
I opened her last photograph.
It showed sunlight spilling across her bedroom floor.
She had taken it the morning she died.
For some reason, that hurt more than anything.
She had seen the sunrise.
She didn't know it would be her last.
Later that day, Marcus's attorney contacted me.
Not directly.
Through my attorney, Daniel Reed.
Detective Price had recommended that I seek independent legal representation because Marcus had used my financial information.
Daniel was patient and precise.
He explained that Marcus wanted to discuss a settlement involving our property and savings.
I nearly laughed.
"A settlement?"
Daniel nodded.
"His lawyer says he is willing to release any claim against the house if you agree not to make additional public statements."
I stared at him.
"He thinks he can buy my silence?"
"I would strongly advise against accepting anything without a thorough review."
I shook my head.
"I don't want his deal."
"That's understandable."
"I want the truth."
Daniel leaned forward.
"Then we'll focus on protecting you while the criminal investigation continues."
He explained that some property matters could be handled separately.
He would help me secure my accounts.
Challenge unauthorized transactions.
And examine documents Marcus had signed using my information.
For the first time in years, I felt someone was explaining my choices instead of making them for me.
That afternoon, Renee drove me to our house with police approval.
I needed clothes.
Documents.
And something much more important.
Maya's childhood memory box.
The house looked exactly the same.
White curtains.
Blue flowers beside the porch.
The welcome mat Maya had picked out.
But everything felt different.
I walked into the living room.
Marcus's coffee mug sat beside the sink.
His shoes were near the stairs.
A jacket hung over the chair.
I stared at those ordinary objects.
They seemed impossible.
How could evil leave such ordinary things behind?
Renee touched my arm.
"We can leave if you want."
I shook my head.
"This is my house."
I said it again.
"My house."
Marcus had made me feel like a guest in my own home.
Everything had to suit him.
The furniture.
The bills.
The visitors.
Even the temperature.
But he wasn't here anymore.
I went upstairs.
Maya's bedroom door was closed.
I stood in front of it for several minutes.
Then I turned the handle.
Her room smelled faintly of vanilla lotion.
Her textbooks were stacked beside the bed.
A pair of white sneakers sat near the closet.
There was a half-finished sketch on her desk.
And a yellow sticky note attached to her mirror.
Breathe. You've got this.
I sat on the bed.
The mattress dipped beneath me.
I picked up her favorite sweater.
Held it against my face.
And cried.
Renee quietly closed the door behind us.
I didn't know how long I stayed there.
Eventually, I opened the memory box beneath Maya's bed.
Inside were photographs.
Birthday cards.
Old school certificates.
And a notebook.
The cover read:
Things I Want to Do Before I'm 25.
I opened it.
Travel to New Orleans with Mom.
Graduate without student loans.
Start a community scholarship.
Buy Mom a vacation.
Learn to cook Grandma's peach cobbler properly.
I smiled through tears.
Maya had always burned the crust.
Near the bottom of the page, she had written one final goal.
Make sure Mom knows she deserves real love.
My chest tightened.
She had written that months before she died.
I turned the page.
Something slipped out.
A small blue business card.
On the back was a handwritten number and a name.
Andre Wilson.
Underneath, Maya had written:
Witness. Parking garage. Ask about the argument.
I stared at the words.
Then I called Detective Price.
"I found something."
"What is it?"
"A name."
"Whose name?"
"Andre Wilson."
There was a pause.
Then she said, "Nia, where are you?"
"At home."
"Stay there. I'm sending an officer."
My pulse quickened.
"Why?"
May you like
Detective Price answered carefully.
"Because Andre Wilson disappeared the morning after your daughter's death."
