Chapter Four
1245 Words
The Statement*
The officer was younger than I expected. Late 20s, clean-shaven, badge that read _Officer M. Delgado_. He had that practiced neutrality cops use when they’re deciding if you’re a victim or a suspect.
“Ms. Sampson?” He nodded to Frank, then me. “We got a report of a break-in. You’re the homeowner?”
“Ex-homeowner,” I corrected. My voice came out steady. I was proud of that. “I signed the sale an hour ago. The money wired while I was still inside.”
Delgado’s eyes flicked to Frank. “And you are?”
“Her brother. Frank Sampson.” Frank stepped forward. Protective. Angry. “This is insane. She just sold the place and now it’s trashed? Who does that?”
“Let’s start from the beginning.” Delgado pulled out a small notebook. “Walk me through the last 24 hours.”
I told the truth. Most of it.
“I was finalizing the sale this morning. Lawyer was here at 10am. Wire went through at 11:15. I stayed to do a last walkthrough. Frank came to help me pack a few things.” I gestured to the boxes by the door. Real boxes. Real dust on them. “We went out for coffee around 11:45. Came back at 12:30 and found the front door ajar. Inside was… like this.”
Delgado wrote something down. “You have the lawyer’s contact?”
“Yes.” I gave him the name Cedric’s people provided. “He can confirm the timing.”
“Anyone else have keys?”
“Evan. My ex-husband.” I let the word sit there. “And my sister, Wendy. They’ve been asking to buy the house. I refused. Evan offered double asking. I said no.”
Frank shot me a look. I didn’t meet his eyes.
Delgado’s pen paused. “Motive?”
“Take your pick.” I kept my face blank. “Revenge. Control. He doesn’t handle ‘no’ well.”
“Where’s your ex now?”
“Signing a prenup with my sister.” The words tasted bitter. “Wedding is Saturday.”
Delgado glanced up. “Convenient timing.”
“I know how it looks.” I hugged my arms around myself. Not fake. I was cold. “But Evan doesn’t do mess. He does lawsuits. He’d serve me papers, not break my windows.”
“What about your sister?”
“She wants the house for her baby.” I shrugged. “She’s been texting me for weeks. I blocked her number this morning.”
Delgado asked to see the messages. I handed him my phone. He scrolled through Wendy’s unanswered texts, Evan’s “let’s talk, you’re being unreasonable” messages. All real. All deleted after he read them.
“Mind if we take photos and fingerprints?” he asked.
“Please.” I stepped aside. “I don’t know what’s missing yet. I haven’t had a chance to check.”
Two more officers arrived. One started photographing the living room. The other dusted the doorframe for prints. Frank stayed close to me, his hand resting on my back like he had when we were kids and I was scared of thunderstorms.
“Anything valuable taken?” Delgado asked.
I hesitated. This was the part Cedric and I planned. The part that made this a crime instead of vandalism.
“My laptop.” I let my voice crack. Just a little. “It’s old. Five years. Barely works. But it has my work files. Clients. Sketches. Everything.” I looked down at my hands. “And some jewelry from my grandmother. Not worth much, but…”
“Let’s make a list,” Delgado said gently. “We’ll need serial numbers if you have them.”
I gave him the laptop details. Fake serial. Cedric’s tech team provided it. I described my grandmother’s ring. It didn’t exist, but my description was specific enough to sound real.
Delgado nodded. “We’ll check pawn shops and local listings. Affluent area means cameras. We’ll pull footage from the street.”
Panic flickered. Then died. Cedric said his people handled the cameras. A 7-minute blackout. Untraceable.
“Can you think of anyone who’d want to hurt you?” Delgado asked.
Only the man I’d called at 2am. Only the man who bought my house so he could watch it burn on livestream.
“No,” I said. “Just Evan. And Wendy. But they’re getting married. They don’t need my house. They’re buying a penthouse downtown.”
Frank squeezed my shoulder. “Officer, my sister just lost her marriage and now her home is destroyed. Can we get this over with? She needs to sit down.”
Delgado closed his notebook. “We’ll need a formal statement tomorrow at the station. For now, don’t touch anything. Insurance will want photos. Do you have a place to stay?”
“My brother’s,” I said quickly. “He lives ten minutes away.”
“Good.” Delgado handed me his card. “Call if you remember anything else. And Ms. Sampson? I’m sorry this happened.”
He meant it. I almost felt bad for him.
They left after an hour. Crime scene tape across the door. Neighbors watching from their windows. Perfect.
Frank locked the car and turned to me in the driveway. “You were good in there.”
“I had to be.” I stared at the house. My house. Not anymore. “Did I mess up?”
“No.” He started the engine. “You sounded like a woman who got her life destroyed twice in one day. Which, technically, you did.”
I didn’t answer. Because he was right. Evan took my marriage. Cedric took my house. And I let them both do it.
My phone buzzed. Unknown number. Again.
I answered without thinking.
“Officer Delgado is thorough,” Cedric’s voice said. Low. Amused. “You sold it well.”
My breath caught. “You’re watching?”
“I’m always watching.” A pause. “Cameras went dark 11:58 to 12:05. Like we planned. Laptop is gone. They’ll find it in a dumpster three blocks over, smashed. No fingerprints but yours and Evan’s.”
“You said you’d make it look real.”
“I said I’d make it _work_.” He paused. “You sounded cold on that call. Like you meant every word about him not handling ‘no’.”
“I did mean it.” I watched Frank pull out of the driveway. “He doesn’t.”
“Good.” Cedric’s voice softened, just slightly. “The livestream setup is ready. Your brother gets the bulldozer Saturday at 2pm. Right when the vows start. I want Evan to hear it over the microphone.”
“You’re enjoying this too much.”
“I’m enjoying that you’re not broken,” he corrected. “See you Saturday, Carey. Wear red.”
He hung up.
Frank glanced at me. “Who was that?”
“No one,” I lied. Again. “Just insurance.”
He nodded, but his eyes stayed on me too long. Frank knew me better than anyone. He’d know when I was lying.
We drove in silence. The house disappeared in the rearview mirror.
Behind me, glass and memories. Ahead, a gallery, a bulldozer, and a man who bought my painting ten years ago and never forgot my hands.
I wasn’t sure which scared me more.
- Writer
