“We still need proof of cause and intent.”
I opened the folder labeled PAYMENTS.
It contained bank transfers from Hale Medical to shell companies. One company had paid a retired deputy named Graham Voss every month for seventeen years.
Daniel leaned closer.
“I know that name.”
“Who is he?”
“Former undersheriff.”
“Was he working the night Mom died?”
Daniel’s face told me the answer.
I opened SHERIFF.
Inside were photographs of reports with altered times, missing evidence logs, and an email from Rosie to herself:
Graham Voss changed Dad’s interview. Original report said Dad arrived at home after midnight. Final report said he never left. Claire’s statement was used to support the change.
I could barely see through my tears.
“I was sixteen.”
“I know.”
“I helped them.”
“You were manipulated.”
“I lied.”
“You repeated what your father told you.”
“That lie buried her.”
“No. The men in that video buried her.”
A sound came from the front porch.
Both of us went still.
A key entered my lock.
Only three people had keys to my house.
Rosie.
Ben.
My father.
Daniel closed the laptop and pulled his gun.
The door opened.
My father stepped inside.
He carried a paper grocery bag.
“Claire?”
He saw Daniel.
The bag slipped slightly in his arms, then steadied.
“Detective Mercer.”
“Mr. Hale.”
“What are you doing in my daughter’s house?”
Daniel moved between us.
My father looked at the laptop.
Then at the flash drive.
For the first time in my life, I saw his mask disappear.
Not completely.
Just enough.
His eyes became flat.
“You found it,” he said.
I felt something inside me tear loose.
“You killed her.”
He placed the grocery bag carefully on the floor.
“No.”
“I watched the video.”
“You watched part of a video.”
