Then I remembered something I had buried.

Dad coming into my room that night. His hand on my hair. His whisper.

“Take care of your mom, Claire.”

I had thought it was a normal goodnight.

It was goodbye.

At 9:20 p.m., the prosecutor returned with an evidence box.

Victor stood. “That house is in my name.”

The prosecutor looked at him coldly. “We’ll be reviewing that too.”

My heart pounded. “Did you find it?”

“We found the secret drawer,” he said. “Documents, a notebook, a USB drive, and photographs.”

Then he pulled out a clear evidence bag.

Inside was the photograph.

Victor stood beside a man in a white shirt and hat, next to a black SUV. Behind them, half-hidden, was my father, as though he had taken the photo secretly.

On the back, in Dad’s handwriting, were the words:

“Commander Blake and Victor. Proof of deliveries. If I turn up dead, it wasn’t Helen.”

Mom covered her mouth.

The prosecutor continued. “The USB contains videos of Victor receiving money from former Commander Blake, who is currently under investigation for extortion and disappearances. There are also audio recordings. One appears to contain a threat against your father.”

When Noah was taken to another room with a psychologist, the prosecutor played the recording.

Dad’s voice came first.

“I have copies, Victor. Tomorrow I’m going to Internal Affairs.”

Victor answered, low and furious. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

“I’m dealing with you. You used my shop.”

“You’d have lost that shop without me.”

“You dragged my family into this.”

Then a colder voice spoke.

“Daniel, think about your children. Accidents happen.”

Dad said, “If anything happens to me, Helen knows.”

The recording ended.

Mom whispered, “But I didn’t know where the papers were.”

The prosecutor turned to Victor.

“An arrest warrant has been requested for Victor Parker for first-degree murder, evidence tampering, threats, obstruction, and financial crimes.”

Victor exploded.

“Helen planted it! She always wanted everything!”

I stared at him.

“My mother was one hour from execution. When exactly did she hide evidence in a house you kept locked for six years?”

He went silent.

For the first time, the cuffs went on his wrists instead of hers.

As the guards led him away, Victor looked at me.

“You don’t know anything, Claire.”

“I know enough.”

“Your father wasn’t innocent either.”

Mom stood. “Don’t you dare.”

Victor smiled with hatred.