"Fine. I'll arrange the confrontation. But I'm warning you, don't try anything."
Half an hour later, Nelson Whitney was brought into the interrogation room.
Same slouch. Same smirk. Like he'd strolled in off a beach.
"Oh, Laurel. Only been a few days and look at you—what happened, sweetheart?"
He dropped into the chair across from me.
"Heard you've been living the good life in here. Say the word, I'll send someone else to spice things up."
Detective Mercer slammed his palm on the table.
"Nelson Whitney! Watch your mouth!"
Nelson sneered, but he eased off—barely.
"Officer, I'm just checking in on an old classmate."
I held Nelson's gaze and let the silence stretch before I spoke.
"Nelson. The photo analysis came back. It's a forgery."
Nelson's eyes flickered.
"So what if it's forged? I was terrified back then—I just grabbed some random photo to cover myself."
"But the video is real. And Gail Lambert's diary is real."
"There's nowhere left to hide."
I leaned forward and lowered my voice.
"Can't I?"
"Do you remember where you were the night Gail jumped, ten years ago?"
