Part 2: My aunt wanted to adopt my little sister after our parents d*ed just to get her hands on the money — she had no idea I had one more card to play.

That mattered.

Because Howard returned.

At 12:01.

A traffic camera caught his truck turning back toward our street.

At 12:04, a neighbor’s camera showed a figure entering our rear yard.

At 12:07, flames appeared through Dad’s office.

Howard claimed he had only returned for the solvent can.

Nobody believed him.

But belief wasn’t proof.

Then police recovered the deleted audio from his burner phone.

Howard had accidentally recorded forty-three seconds.

Maybe he hit the button in his pocket.

Maybe the universe finally got tired of protecting him.

The recording began with footsteps.

Then Howard’s voice.

“Where is it?”

My father’s voice answered.

“You’ll never find every copy.”

Howard:

“Where’s the ledger?”

Dad:

“Go to hell.”

A crash.

Then my mother screamed.

Then the recording ended.

The timestamp:

12:03 a.m.

Howard was inside.

He was arrested for two counts of murder the same afternoon.

I watched from Mercer’s office as police led him from his house.