“The night she died,” she says. “Before Luke came.”
I feel like the air’s left the room and I tug at my collar.
“She asked me to start recording and then leave the room,” Martha goes on. “Said she needed privacy. I didn’t hear what she said. I swear. I only listened to it after . . . after she died.”
My jaw clenches.
“And Luke?” I ask.
“He didn’t know,” she says quickly. “I didn’t tell him. I didn’t even remember it properly until after everything happened.”
“Why?” Dale presses.
“Because I was scared,” she blurts. “I didn’t think it mattered. I thought—” She chokes, shaking her head. “I thought she wanted to talk to you. I didn’t know . . .”
“You work for Luke,” I say, my voice low.
She nods. “All I did was open the door. I didn’t give her anything.”
“Then who did?” I snap.
“Luke,” she says. “Luke did. But only because she begged him. She wanted to die.” A sob escapes her. “At least, that’s what he said.”
The words hit, but I don’t react. Hearing them out loud feels surreal.
“So, why set Wynter up?” I ask, my voice dangerously calm.
Martha frowns. “I didn’t. That wasn’t part of it.” A beat passes before she adds, “Unless . . .” Her eyes widen slightly. “Unless Luke did.”
“Why would he?” Dale asks.
“To hurt you,” she says, looking straight at me. “He wanted to take something you loved.”
My jaw tightens. “He already did,” I growl.
Martha flinches. “Luke couldn’t get to her,” she rushes on. “You were always there. Or someone was watching. And when Wynter found out more about him, she told Anika she couldn’t go behind your back anymore.”
I freeze, feeling Dale’s eyes on me.
“So, he hired me,” Martha continues. “I let him in. I didn’t know what he was planning. He told me you were keeping him from the love of his life, the mother of his child, and I believed him.”
Her voice cracks. “When we found her . . . I didn’t understand. I was angry. But Luke told me she’d begged him, and she’d told me already that she felt low, like she didn’t want to be around.” She sighs. “I confronted Luke, demanded answers, but he told me to run. He said I’d get blamed.”
The room falls silent as we all process this mess. Eventually, I look up, inhaling sharply.
“Play it,” I say.
Dale hesitates, staring at me for further confirmation. I nod, and he hits play.
For a second, there’s nothing. Just static. And then her shaky voice fills the room, and I squeeze my eyes closed, ignoring the lump in my throat as tears threaten to fall.
“Ray . . .”
She sounds so fragile. Why didn’t I hear that in her tone that evening?
“I don’t know how to start this,” she whispers. “You always told me I talk too much, so I guess this is your lucky day.”
A weak laugh escapes me as I push to stand and wander over to the window.