Chapter 58 High Profile Suspect

Chapter 58 High Profile Suspect
Detective Harris's POV

Her lips trembled slightly. “That thought made me really happy. So I recorded every single day… three times a day.”

She inhaled sharply. “On the day Mrs. Carter showed up, I was recording when I heard the knock. I was distracted and forgot to turn off the recorder before going to the door. That’s how I captured everything without even knowing—every single threat… and how she claimed her son was a cannibalistic serial killer who would eat our child if I insisted on keeping the pregnancy.”

“Where’s the recorder?” I asked sharply.

“It’s in there. In my wardrobe. Check the one on the left,” she answered quickly, pointing toward the tall wooden cabinet beside the large dusty piano that was sitting just beside the living room entrance door

I didn’t waste another second. I crossed the room in three long strides and pulled the wardrobe open.

“Where exactly?” I asked, my voice sharper than before.

“Top shelf. Behind the blue storage box.”
I reached up, my fingers brushing against something small and metallic.

And there it was.

A recorder.

I grabbed it and studied it for a while before tossing it to Paris, who was staring at me like he was waiting for permission to breathe.

“Play it,” I said.

He almost missed the catch. After fumbling with the device in the air for a few seconds, he finally got a grip on it and began studying the buttons carefully.

After a moment, he pressed what seemed like the correct one.

Then a woman’s voice suddenly filled the room.
No doubt about it.

That was Mrs. Carter’s voice.

The room instantly fell into complete silence as we all listened to her voice play from the recorder.

She was right.

Martha was right.

Mrs. Carter had truly threatened her—and even the part about Charlie being a cannibalistic serial killer, the part I had barely believed, turned out to be true.

Fuck.

Martha had been telling the truth all along.

She had really been married to Charlie… and she might actually still be carrying his child.
I dragged a hand down my face, my mind reeling in shock.

The recording finally ended with a soft static sound.

I immediately looked up. “Was that the last thing you ever recorded?”

Martha indeed once.

“That’s not all,” she suddenly added, her eyes lighting up like she had just remembered something she had been too terrified to reveal.

I didn’t say a word, but the way my eyes narrowed into hers was enough. She understood. It was a silent command.

“Talk.”

She began twisting her fingers together, her nails digging into her skin as if she needed the slight pain to steady herself. For a few seconds, she just stared at the floor.

Then she finally spoke.

“I think Shenell might have something that belongs to Mrs. Carter.”

“What… what do you mean?” I asked, my confusion sharpening into alertness.

She swallowed before continuing.

“The day after Mrs. Carter came to warn me, I was restless. I tried reaching Charlie, but I couldn’t get through to him. His phone was off. He wasn’t answering any messages. So I gathered the courage to go to his house myself.”

Her voice trembled slightly.

“And for the first time, I wasn’t scared of going to his house. After all, Mrs. Carter already knew about me, and Shenell…” Martha hesitated, then she continued again. “I wasn't scared of Shenell finding out about me and learning that I'm Charlie's new wife, after all she was supposed to be the mistress, not me.”

I didn’t interrupt. I remained quiet and allowed her to continue speaking.

“When I got there,” she continued, “I found Shenell and Mrs. Carter arguing. Not just arguing—it was heated. It seemed really serious. The kind of fight where both people forget who they’re talking to.”

Martha's fingers tightened again.

“Shenell slapped Mrs. Carter across the face.”

The minute I heard this, my jaw clenched at once.

Martha continued, “Shenell told Mrs. Carter that she wouldn’t give back what she had taken. She said it right to her face—that she wouldn’t return it, and that was final. I even heard her say Mrs. Carter should go ahead and do her worst… that not even Charlie himself could make her change her mind.”

Martha slowly lifted her head to look up at me, fear swimming in her eyes.

“And when did you say this happened?” I asked.

“This happened just one day after Mrs. Carter came to threaten me. And two days before Charlie was murdered.”

The air in the room suddenly felt heavier.

“I don’t know what’s going on between them,” Martha whispered. “But I think Shenell was having serious problems with her mother-in-law. And whatever it was… it wasn’t small.”

I exhaled slowly.

“Do you have evidence of this too?” I asked.

She shook her head—slowly, almost apologetically.

“No,” she said weakly.

“That’s enough,” I said firmly. “You’re coming with us.”

Martha blinked. “What?”

“Yes you're coming with us to the station. You stay there under our protective hold while we make proper use of all the evidence we've at hand. You don’t think you can walk around alone after telling us all of this, huh?” I asked with a raised brow.

She suddenly laughed, “And you think that helps?” she said firmly.

She paused for a few seconds, then spoke again, “You think putting me in a building with a badge on the wall keeps me alive?”

I frowned. “It’s safer than here.” I replied sharply.

She shook her head. “No. It’s louder. The moment I walk in there with you, she’ll know. Mrs. Carter always knows. She has friends. She has favors. She has people who smile at you during the day and report back to her at night.”

My eyes hardened. “Are you accusing my department?” I suddenly snapped.

“No,” she answered swiftly. “I’m only saying you don’t see the whole board, but I do.”

At this point, I didn't argue—I don't have to.

I just pulled out my phone calmly from my pocket and started to dial a number.

Marthat froze, “What are you doing?” She asked, stretching her neck over like she wanted to see what I was doing on my phone.

I didn't answer her, instead, I simply turned slightly away and spoke into the line, voice cold and official.

“This is Detective Harris. I need a unit dispatched immediately. Martha Winds’ residence. Full perimeter control. I want a controlled visible presence—no lights, no sirens, just quiet approach. Possible threat from high-profile suspect. I repeat, possible threat from high-profile suspects. Move now.”

“Yes, sir!” The response came instantly through the line.