The man’s face was turned away.
“No.”
Daniel enlarged the frame.
The badge number blurred, but a distinctive patch showed on the sleeve.
Daniel whispered a curse.
“What?”
“That uniform predates the department merger.”
“So?”
“Only twelve deputies were issued that patch.”
“Can you find out who?”
“Yes.”
We watched the rest.
My mother’s car left the facility.
The cruiser followed.
At 2:16 a.m., my father returned alone in the cruiser, changed into his truck, and drove away.
I clutched the edge of the table.
“He put her in the car.”
“It appears that way.”
“And drove her to the ravine.”
“Claire—”
“He killed her.”
“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.”
