Chapter 6 - The Text Messages
By midnight on Saturday, Courtney sat in a small conference room at Samantha’s law firm downtown. She looked nothing like the polished, laughing young woman who had stood on my porch four days earlier. Her designer coat was stained, her hair was greasy and unstyled, and her mascara was smeared around her red, puffy eyes.
Across the table, a state police detective named Miller sat with a digital forensic device connected to Courtney’s rose-gold iPhone.
Samantha and I sat on the opposite side of the glass mirror in the observation room, watching the screen duplicate thousands of text messages onto an encrypted hard drive.
"We found it," Detective Miller announced, stepping out of the room and walking into our observation booth. He held a tablet displaying a string of text messages dated October 12th—six days before Lucas’s fatal crash.
I leaned forward, my breath catching in my throat as I read the words displayed on the screen.
Charles: The kid won't sell his shares back to me. He thinks he’s running the show now. Courtney: Can't you just fire him? Charles: He owns thirty percent outright. The only way I get those shares back is if he’s gone. Permanently. Courtney: Charles... what are you talking about? Charles: Don't worry about it. He drives that old Ford van up to the Watertown depot every Tuesday night. Heavy rain expected this week. Accidental spin-outs happen all the time on that stretch of road.
"My God," Samantha whispered, placing a hand over her mouth. "He pre-planned it."
"There's more," Detective Miller said grimly, swiping to the next screen. "We ran a trace on Charles’s personal credit card transactions from October 14th. He paid three thousand dollars in cash to a mechanic shop in North Syracuse—a shop owned by a man named Ray Cooper, who has three prior convictions for insurance fraud and vehicle tampering."
Tears of hot, bitter rage welled in my eyes, but I didn't let them fall. The grief that had consumed me for the last three weeks suddenly transformed into a brilliant, blinding fire.
Lucas hadn't died because of a tragic twist of fate. He had been murdered by a greedy, pathetic old man who couldn't bear the thought of losing control over a logistics fleet.
"Where is Ray Cooper now?" I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm.
"State troopers took him into custody thirty minutes ago," Detective Miller replied. "When we showed him the bank transfers and the text string, he broke within ten minutes. He gave a full recorded confession. He admitted Charles paid him five thousand dollars to loosen the brake fittings on Lucas’s delivery van while it was parked in the company lot."
I turned my face toward the glass mirror, looking through at Courtney, who was sitting at the table, nervously biting her fingernails.
"What happens to Courtney?" I asked.
"She knew about the plot after the fact and concealed evidence to profit from the estate," Detective Miller said. "She’s being charged as an accessory to first-degree murder."
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I took a deep, steady breath, feeling the cool air fill my lungs.
"Ensure my father hears every word of Ray Cooper’s confession before his trial begins," I said softly. "I want him to know that the very company he tried to steal is going to pay for the team of prosecutors that puts him in state prison for the rest of his life."
