“Don’t.”
He stopped.
Rebecca knew exactly what he had reached for.
His phone.
His bank alerts.
His escape routes.
Whitaker slid another page free.
“Also, Mr. Ward, Don Montalvo left a conditional clause in his final estate instructions.”
Rebecca’s breath caught.
She had seen the envelope on camera, but she had never read the full contents.
Caleb’s eyes flicked toward the door.
The security officer shifted to block it more fully.
Whitaker read in a level voice.
“If my daughter’s spouse attempts to access, transfer, conceal, poison, coerce, isolate, or accelerate her death for financial benefit, every discretionary asset previously available to him shall be revoked, and all evidence shall be forwarded to law enforcement.”
Nora’s gloved hand tightened around the evidence container.
Caleb said nothing.
His silence was uglier than any denial.
Rebecca watched him count the room. Doctor. Detective. Security. Attorney. Nora. Her.
No soft target left.
Dr. Harris’s pager vibrated once against his coat. He glanced at it, then at Detective Cole.
“The preliminary screen came back.”
Caleb’s face drained.
Rebecca heard the blood rush in her ears.
Dr. Harris did not look at Caleb when he spoke. He looked at Rebecca.
“We found a compound consistent with heavy-metal exposure. It explains the organ stress, the neuropathy, the nausea, the metallic taste.”
Rebecca closed her eyes for one second.
