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The Flower Girl's Phone / Chapter 5 / 13

The Phone Records

Chapter 05 - The Phone Records

Detective Katz requested the warrant at 9 AM, six hours after Daniel relayed Sophie's account of the water bottle.

The judge who signed it — the Honorable Patricia Reyes, who had presided over Fairfax County family and criminal matters for nineteen years and who had two granddaughters of her own — read the affidavit twice before picking up her pen.

"Detective, this is based largely on the memory of a child who was six years old at the time of the events she's describing."

"Yes, Your Honor."

"That's a thin reed for a warrant."

"With respect, Your Honor, we're not asking you to convict anyone based on a six-year-old's memory. We're asking for permission to look at objective phone records from a specific date and time window. If those records corroborate what Sophie Hawthorne says she saw, that's meaningful. If they don't, we've lost nothing but paperwork."

Judge Reyes looked at the affidavit a third time. At the attached incident report from the previous night — the colchicine in the champagne glass, the arrest, the reopened case file on Claire Hawthorne.

She signed it.

---

The phone records arrived from Victoria's carrier by 2 PM.

Katz sat with Priya Nair and a records analyst named Wei Zhang, spreading eighteen months of call logs across a conference table like a hand of cards nobody wanted to play.

The night Claire Hawthorne died, Victoria's phone showed three calls placed between 8:47 PM and 9:12 PM — the window before Claire left the restaurant where the two women had dinner.

The first call was to a number registered to a compounding pharmacy in Loudoun County. Duration: four minutes.

The second call was to a number that Wei traced, after some digging, to a burner phone with no registered owner — the kind purchased with cash at a convenience store, used briefly, and discarded.

The third call, at 9:12 PM, was to Claire Hawthorne's own cell phone. Duration: ninety seconds.

"That third call," Katz said. "That's right before Claire left the restaurant."

"Correct," Wei said. "And here's the interesting part — Claire's phone shows an incoming text message at 9:08 PM, four minutes before that call. The message came from Victoria's number."

"What did it say?"

Wei pulled up the archived message thread, recovered through the carrier's backup servers because Claire's own phone had been destroyed in the accident.

The text read: "Don't forget your water bottle! Left it by the bar, grabbed it for you. See you at the car."

Katz stared at the screen.

"She's establishing a paper trail. Making it look like she's doing Claire a favor — grabbing her water bottle so she doesn't leave it behind."

"And the call four minutes later," Priya added, "would be consistent with confirming Claire received the bottle and was about to head to her car."

"So the sequence is: pharmacy call, burner call — probably confirming a supplier or a second party — then the text and call to Claire, establishing the water bottle handoff on record."

Katz sat back.

"This isn't impulsive. This is methodical. She planned Claire's death with the same precision she planned Daniel's poisoning eighteen months later."

---

The burner phone number led nowhere directly — the device itself had been powered off and, presumably, destroyed shortly after that night, standard practice for anyone sophisticated enough to use one in the first place.

But burner phones leave shadows even when they disappear.

Wei Zhang cross-referenced the tower pings from the burner's brief period of activity — the eleven days between its activation and its final signal — against cell tower data in the area.

The burner phone had made exactly six calls during its short life. Five to Victoria's number. One to a number registered to a business account: Sterling and Hawthorne Interiors, extension 104.

Extension 104 belonged to the company's junior partner and chief financial officer.

His name was Marcus Reyes.

No relation to the judge. But a name that, when Katz ran it, connected to something she hadn't expected: Marcus Reyes had been in a relationship with Victoria Sterling for the past two years, conducted almost entirely in secret, funded in part by a joint bank account neither Daniel Hawthorne nor Claire Hawthorne's estate had ever known existed.

An account that had received, six weeks after Claire's death, a wire transfer of two hundred thousand dollars from the buyout of Claire's half of the design firm.

Victoria hadn't just eliminated a business partner.

She'd eliminated a business partner, inherited half a company, funneled the proceeds into a secret account shared with her actual partner, and then spent eighteen months positioning herself to marry the widower and gain access to the far larger fortune attached to Hawthorne Development.

"She wasn't planning a wedding," Katz said quietly, looking at the financial records spread across the table. "She was planning a second liquidation."

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Keep reading Part 6 — because when Katz brings Marcus Reyes in for questioning, he doesn't lawyer up the way Victoria did. He starts talking almost immediately. And what he tells detectives isn't a confession to save himself. It's a warning. Because Marcus Reyes believes he's the next name on Victoria Sterling's list, and he has the emails to prove it.

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