Chapter 9: What Caleb Said When Rodriguez Knocked
Three days passed.
Rodriguez called me on a Wednesday morning while I was sitting at my kitchen table with coffee I hadn't touched.
The wound on my cheek had been closed with three small sutures.
Dr.
Thorne had told me there would be minimal scarring if I kept it clean and out of the sun.
I had spent two of the three days trying to feel something about that and arriving at nothing useful.
"We executed a search warrant on Caleb Marsh's home office this morning," Rodriguez said.
"I wanted you to hear it from me before it hits internal channels at your firm."
I set the coffee cup down.
"What did you find?"
"Printed correspondence with your sister going back eight months.
A hand-annotated copy of your father's original will with the codicil sections marked.
A spreadsheet with dates — including your birthday six weeks from now." A pause.
"And a burner phone."
"A burner phone."
"Text messages between him and Haley over the past four months.
He helped her understand the exact legal conditions under which the trust would fail to transfer.
He told her what *incapacitated* meant under Texas trust law.
He told her what would need to be documented to trigger a reversion." Rodriguez's voice was even and steady.
"He also, two days before the wedding, sent her a text that said: *Make it look medical.
Allergic reactions are clean.*"
The kitchen was very quiet.
"Is he in custody?" I asked.
"He was taken in for questioning this morning.
His attorney arrived forty minutes later." A pause.
"He's talking, Lena."
"About what?"
"About Haley.
About the plan.
About the timeline." Another pause, this one longer.
"He says he didn't know she would go as far as she went.
He says he thought she was going to — his words — *arrange a health scare.* Something that would delay the birthday transfer.
He says he didn't know about the razor."
I looked at the window above my kitchen sink.
"Do you believe him?" I asked.
"The text said *make it look medical.* Not *hurt her.* Not *use a blade.*" Rodriguez was quiet for a moment.
"Whether I believe him or not isn't the operative question right now.
What matters is that he has provided documented evidence of conspiracy.
His cooperation changes the shape of his charges but it does not remove them."
"And Haley?"
"Haley has said nothing since asking for a lawyer at the venue.
Her attorney has been managing all communication." A pause.
"That will change when the DA presents the full evidence package.
It usually does."
I thanked Rodriguez and ended the call.
I sat for a while longer at the table.
Then I picked up the phone and called my firm's HR director.
I told her I needed to report a serious conflict of interest involving a senior colleague and that I had evidence she would need to see before the day was out.
She was quiet for a moment.
"Is this related to the police activity we were notified about this morning?"
"Yes," I said.
"Come in," she said.
"I'll have Legal present."
I went in.
The meeting lasted two hours.
I brought copies of the emails from Carol Ann's folder, the timeline Rodriguez had walked me through, and a written account of every professional interaction I could recall between myself and Caleb over the past year.
The HR director listened without interrupting.
The legal counsel took notes.
At the end, the legal counsel looked at the HR director and said: "We need to loop in the firm's outside counsel today."
Caleb's access badge was deactivated before I reached the parking garage.
I drove home through Austin in the late afternoon, the city moving around me the way cities do — indifferent and loud and unaware of what had happened to one unremarkable woman over the past seventy-two hours.
I stopped at a red light on Congress Avenue and watched a group of tourists consulting a map on the sidewalk.
My phone buzzed.
Dana.
*Rodriguez just texted me.
May you like
Haley's attorney made contact with the DA's office this afternoon.*
*She wants to talk.*
