My knees weakened.
“Did you think the accident was suspicious?”
There was a long silence.
“At the time, I couldn’t prove it.”
“Can you now?”
“I don’t know.”
Then he added:
“But if you have documents from your son, I need to see them.”
I looked at Grace.
She was watching me with tears in her eyes.
For the first time in ten years, I felt something I had almost forgotten.
Hope.
Not the comforting kind.
The frightening kind.
The kind that forces you to question everything.
The next morning, I met Detective Reed and gave him the documents.
He examined the financial records carefully.
Then he looked at the photograph.
His expression changed.
“Where did you get this?”
I explained.
He turned the photograph over.
On the back was the date.
The day before the accident.
Detective Reed stared at it for several seconds.
Then he looked at me.
