I stood and paced.
“Did he?”
“Yes.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“He gave a sworn statement to an attorney the morning after this video.”
My chest tightened.
“Why hasn’t anyone told me?”
“Because the investigation was sealed while authorities tried to identify the driver.”
“Who was driving?”
Mercer looked at me.
“Howard.”
The room went silent.
I stared at him.
“Howard?”
“He was nineteen. Your father was seventeen.”
Everything rearranged itself.
The photographs weren’t merely blackmail against Dad.
They were evidence against Howard too.
“But if Dad confessed—”
“Howard lost his leverage.”
“And if Dad gave police the ledger—”
“Howard potentially lost his freedom.”
I sank into the chair.
“So eighteen days later my parents die.”
Mercer said nothing.
He didn’t need to.
That afternoon, Detective Ruiz called.
“Forensics finished reviewing the original fire report.”
“And?”
“The original conclusion was electrical.”
“I know.”
“It’s wrong.”
My hand tightened.
“What?”
“The wiring damage was consistent with fire exposure, but it wasn’t the ignition source.”
