Part 2: Before my husband passed away, he asked me to deliver a sealed letter to a woman I'd never met — after she read the first line, she looked at me and asked, "Did he tell you everything?"

A pause.

Then another voice.

Zane.

Younger.

Frightened.

"Henry, you don't understand."

My blood turned cold.

Henry spoke again.

"I understand that my daughter was sixteen."

The room went silent.

The recording crackled.

Then Henry continued.

"I understand you knew where she was being kept."

Zane sounded desperate.

"I was trying to help her."

Henry's voice hardened.

"Then why did you keep taking money from Voss?"

I stopped breathing.

Money.

Zane had been paid.

The recording continued.

"I didn't know what they were doing at first," Zane said.

Henry answered, "But you knew afterward."

A long silence followed.

Then my husband whispered, "Yes."

I covered my mouth.

Henry spoke again.

"Tomorrow, you're going to tell the police everything."

Zane began crying.

"Henry, they'll destroy me."

"Then you should have thought of that before you helped them."

The tape ended.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Then Catherine sat down heavily.

Tears streamed down her face.