Chapter 5: What Detective Solis Knew
Detective Solis was younger than I expected.
She had short dark hair and the kind of stillness that comes not from calm but from long practice at containing things.
She came to the house two days later, on a Tuesday morning, while Lindsey was at school.
Frank came with her.
We sat at my kitchen table — the same table where I had read Daniel's email — and she placed a thin manila folder in front of her but didn't open it yet.
"Mrs.
Hartwell," she said, "I want to be straightforward with you.
Some of what I'm about to share is difficult."
"I'm 75," I said.
"I've buried my husband, my daughter, and my son-in-law.
You can be straightforward."
Something shifted in her expression.
Not quite a smile.
Closer to respect.
"Gerald Marsh has been charged with securities fr@ud and wire fr@ud.
Those charges are solid.
The evidence is substantial and the DA is confident." She folded her hands on the folder.
"But there is a second investigation.
It has been running parallel to the fr@ud case for the past six months."
"The accident," I said.
"Yes." She opened the folder.
She turned it so I could see the first page.
It was a photograph — a traffic camera image, time-stamped, showing a dark sedan on a rain-wet road.
"The accident that k*lled your daughter and son-in-law was initially ruled as a single-vehicle collision.
Wet road, a curve, no other vehicles involved." She tapped the photograph.
"This camera was a quarter mile from the scene.
It was reviewed as part of the fr@ud investigation because we were tracking Gerald's movements that week."
I looked at the photograph.
A dark sedan.
Behind it, further back on the road, another vehicle.
Larger.
An SUV.
"That SUV," I said.
"Reported stolen two days before the accident.
Recovered a week later, cleaned.
But not cleaned well enough." She turned to the next page.
A lab report.
I didn't understand all of it, but I understood the words *consistent with contact* and *paint transfer* and the make and model of my daughter's car.
"We believe the SUV made contact with their vehicle on that curve.
Deliberately."
The kitchen was very quiet.
Frank's hand moved across the table and rested near mine.
Not on it.
Near it.
"Gerald," I said.
"We can place him six miles from that road that night.
His phone.
A toll record.
A receipt from a petrol station with a timestamp." Solis kept her voice even.
"We cannot yet place him in the SUV.
That is what we are still working on.
But we have a witness who saw a man matching his description at the location where the SUV was later abandoned."
I looked at the photograph again.
The dark road.
The rain.
My daughter had been driving.
She always drove on long trips because Daniel got sleepy.
"She would have seen the headlights," I said.
"She would have tried to correct."
"She did," Solis said quietly.
"The evidence shows she tried."
I put the photograph face-down on the table.
"What do you need from me?" I said.
"Right now, nothing.
I wanted you to know the state of the investigation before it becomes public.
The fr@ud charges will be announced this week.
The second investigation is not yet public." She closed the folder.
"But I also came because of something Gerald said when he was brought in yesterday."
I looked up.
"He asked his attorney," Solis said, "whether the grandmother had been told yet." She held my gaze.
"We don't know what he meant.
It may be nothing.
It may be a deflection." She paused.
"But I thought you should know he said it."
Frank stood up from the table and walked to the window.
His back was to us.
"He's trying to frighten her," Frank said.
"That's what he does."
"Possibly," Solis said.
She looked at me.
"Mrs.
Hartwell, is there anything — anything at all — that you haven't told us?
Anything your daughter or Daniel ever mentioned, even in passing, that seemed strange at the time?"
I thought about it carefully.
I was not a woman who answered questions before I'd thought about them.
Then I remembered something.
A phone call.
Eight months before the accident.
My daughter's voice, lower than usual, saying: *Mom, if anyone ever asks you to hold something for us — say no.
Just say no and call me.*
I had thought it was strange.
May you like
I had meant to ask her about it.
I never did.
