Chapter 11 - Behind the Glass

Two weeks later, the reinforced steel doors of the Cook County Maximum Security Correctional Center slammed shut behind Clara as she walked into the visitor interrogation booth.

The room was cold, smelling of cheap industrial bleach and despair. A thick sheet of scratch-resistant bulletproof glass separated the two sides of the small stainless-steel table.

On the other side sat Daniel Vance.

He wore an oversized orange prison jumpsuit. His once-stylish hair was shaved down to a rough buzz cut; his face was gaunt, his eyes hollowed out by sleepless nights and the brutal reality of prison life. His knuckles were bruised, and a fresh purple cut ran along his left cheekbone.

When he saw Clara sit down, he grabbed the plastic telephone receiver with trembling, desperate fingers.

Clara picked up her receiver, resting her elbow calmly on the stainless steel counter.

"Clara... Clara, please, you have to listen to me," Daniel begged, his voice frantic, cracking against the plastic mouthpiece. "My public defender is an idiot! He says I’m looking at twenty-five to life without parole! You can tell the prosecutors it was an accident! You can tell them the video was altered!"

"Why would I do that, Daniel?" Clara asked, her voice chillingly pleasant.

"Because we were married! Because I loved you! I was under Mother's thumb, Clara! She manipulated me! She told me you were trying to steal the estate! She told me you were going to take the baby and leave me with nothing!"

"You cut the curtain, Daniel," Clara said, her voice dropping into a razor-sharp whisper that silenced his rambling. "Your mother didn't put that knife in your hand. You carried that blade in your pocket for two weeks before the railing broke. Did you think Frank didn't check the grease on the balcony bolts? You unscrewed the support pins yourself the night before."

Daniel froze. The desperate plea in his eyes died instantly, replaced by a dark, cornered terror.

"You knew... the whole time?" Daniel whispered.

"I knew the moment I saw your eyes when you walked onto that balcony," Clara said. "You didn't look scared for me. You looked annoyed that Maria was holding on. You looked like a man trying to finish a chore."

Daniel slammed the plastic receiver against the counter in sudden, violent fury, spit hitting the glass partition. "I should have pushed you over myself! I should have watched you hit the stones!"

The two correctional officers standing behind Daniel immediately lunged, grabbing him by the shoulders and driving his chest hard against the steel table. Daniel writhed, screaming profanities, his face pressed against the cold metal.

Clara didn't flinch. She didn't blink. She calmly picked up her purse, stood up, and held the receiver close to her mouth one last time.

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"Enjoy the cell, Daniel," Clara whispered. "You'll have the next thirty years to think about that curtain."

She hung up the receiver and walked out into the daylight without looking back.