“My brakes failed because someone tampered with the car.”
I froze.
“What?”
“The police never proved it.”
He looked at me.
“But I know.”
I sat down.
Christopher continued.
“The night of the crash, I was driving to meet someone.”
“Who?”
“A man claiming to have information about Ryan.”
My skin prickled.
“He called from Wisconsin.”
The rehabilitation center.
“Yes.”
“Did you ever meet him?”
“No.”
Christopher looked away.
“The car went through a barrier before I reached the meeting point.”
I covered my mouth.
For the first time, the full danger became real.
This wasn’t an old family mystery.
Someone was still protecting it.
A week later, we made our move.
Christopher arranged a medical trip to Milwaukee as cover.
I went with him.
Mrs. Alvarez remained in Chicago with security near my children.
We drove to the rehabilitation center listed in the records.
