PART 4

Officer Lewis’s hand moved toward the weapon at his waist.
And he smiled.
It was not a nervous smile.
It was recognition.
He knew I had learned who he was.
For one terrible second, everyone in the bedroom seemed frozen.
Detective Barnes stood near the doorway.
Mia was beside me.
Emily was filming from the hall.
Two other officers were carrying evidence bags downstairs.
And Lewis was watching my phone as if he could see Jessica’s warning glowing across the screen.
The person standing beside him is the one who killed Amanda.
I locked the phone and slipped it against my chest.
Lewis took one slow step forward.

“Mrs. Collins,” he said, “hand me the device.”
Mia immediately moved between us
“The warrant does not authorize seizure of my client’s phone.”
Lewis did not look at her.
“We have reason to believe it contains evidence connected to a missing person.”
“Then apply for an additional warrant.”
Barnes cleared his throat.
“Counselor, there is no need to make this difficult.”
Mia’s voice remained calm.
“You brought six officers into the home of a pregnant woman based on planted evidence. Difficulty arrived before I did.”
Barnes’s eyes hardened.
Lewis took another step.

“Give me the phone.”

“No,” I said.

His smile disappeared.

The room changed instantly.

His jaw tightened.

His shoulders shifted.

He was no longer pretending to be polite.

Emily lifted her camera higher.

“I’m recording this.”

Lewis glanced toward her.

“Turn that off.”

“No.”

“Interfering with a police investigation is a crime.”

“So is murder,” I said.

The words left my mouth before I could stop them.

Lewis became perfectly still.

Barnes looked at him.

Mia turned toward me.

Emily stopped breathing.

I had said too much.

Lewis’s hand remained near his weapon.

“What did you say?” he asked.

My heart hammered so hard that I could hear it.

Mia spoke quickly.

“My client is invoking her right to remain silent.”

Lewis ignored her.

“Who have you been talking to, Sarah?”

He used my first name.

Not Mrs. Collins.

Not ma’am.

Sarah.

As if we had met before.

As if he had said my name many times when I was not present.

I stared at him.

“You know exactly who.”

Barnes stepped forward.

“That is enough.”

For one hopeful second, I thought he was speaking to Lewis.

Then Barnes pointed toward my phone.

“Seize it.”

Mia raised her voice.

“No one touches my client.”

Lewis moved.

Emily screamed.

I backed toward the bed, both arms wrapped around my stomach.

Then a voice came from the hallway.

“Everybody stop.”

Marcus Reed stood at the bedroom entrance.

Behind him were two men and one woman wearing plain clothes.

The woman held up an identification wallet.

“North Carolina State Bureau of Investigation.”

Barnes’s face changed.

Only slightly.

But I saw it.

Lewis moved his hand away from his weapon.

The SBI agent looked around the room.

“Detective Barnes, Officer Lewis, step away from Mrs. Collins.”

Barnes recovered quickly.

“We are executing a lawful warrant.”

“We are aware.”

“Then you are interfering with an active investigation.”

The agent’s gaze moved toward the scarf and passport in evidence bags.

“No. We are assuming control of it.”

Barnes’s mouth tightened.

“On whose authority?”

“Internal Affairs requested assistance after receiving evidence of police corruption, obstruction, and possible involvement in the death of Amanda Brooks.”

Lewis looked toward the window.

Marcus noticed.

“Don’t,” he said.

The two male agents shifted positions, blocking the doorway.

The room became silent again.

This time, Lewis was the one surrounded.

Barnes glanced at Mia.

“You arranged this?”

“I notified the appropriate authorities when my client received credible evidence that officers were involved in a criminal conspiracy.”

Barnes gave a humorless laugh.

“Credible evidence? An anonymous email from a missing woman?”

Mia’s expression did not change.

“I never said the evidence came from Jessica Hart.”

Barnes went still.

It lasted less than a second.

But the SBI agent saw it too.

“So you knew Ms. Hart was the source?” she asked.

Barnes’s eyes narrowed.

“She is connected to the case.”

“You arrived before anyone informed you that she contacted Mrs. Collins.”

Barnes said nothing.

Lewis looked at him.

It was a tiny movement.

A silent accusation.

Barnes had made a mistake.

The agent extended her hand.

“Your badge and firearm.”

Barnes laughed again.

“You cannot be serious.”

“Detective.”

He stared at her.

Then at the other agents.

Finally, he removed his weapon.

Lewis did not move.

“Officer Lewis,” the agent said, “do not make me repeat myself.”

His eyes returned to mine.

There was hatred in them now.

Not fear.

Not regret.

Hatred.

He slowly unfastened his holster.

As one agent approached to take the weapon, Lewis suddenly turned.

He drove his shoulder into the man, shoved past Marcus, and ran toward the staircase.

“Stop!”

The house erupted.

Boots pounded across the floor.

Emily pulled me into the bedroom as agents chased him.

A crash came from downstairs.

Glass shattered.

Someone shouted.

Then a gunshot exploded through the house.

I screamed and dropped beside the bed.

Mia crouched over me.

“Stay down!”

Another shot.

Then silence.

Long.

Terrible.

Unnatural silence.

I held my stomach.

“Please,” I whispered. “Please, babies. Stay with me.”

Footsteps approached.

Marcus appeared at the door.

Blood stained his shirt.

Emily gasped.

“It’s not mine,” he said quickly.

“What happened?” Mia demanded.

“Lewis fired through the back door. One agent returned fire.”

“Is he dead?” I asked.

Marcus hesitated.

“No. He escaped through the yard.”

My blood turned cold.

“Then where did the blood come from?”

“One of the officers downstairs was hit in the shoulder.”

“Barnes?”

“No.”

Marcus looked toward the hallway.

“Barnes is in custody.”

I should have felt relief.

Instead, I stared at the open bedroom door.

Lewis was outside.

Armed.

Desperate.

And he knew where I lived.

The SBI moved us to a secure location that afternoon.

It was not a police station.

Mia refused to let local officers decide where I would stay.

Instead, Thomas Bell arranged access to a furnished apartment owned by the trust.

It was on the ninth floor of a building with private security, underground parking, and no public record connecting it to me.

Emily stayed with me.

Mia came and went.

Marcus slept in the living room the first night with a chair wedged under the door.

Rachel was moved to another location.

No one knew where Jessica was.

The state agents questioned Barnes for six hours.

He denied everything.

He claimed Lewis had acted alone.

He said Derek had exaggerated concerns about me, but that welfare checks were routine.

He insisted he had never seen the documents on the flash drive.

Then the agents searched his home.

They found forty-seven thousand dollars in cash inside a locked toolbox.

They found copies of sealed reports involving Amanda’s death.

And they found a photograph of Derek’s mother standing beside Barnes at a private fundraiser eleven years earlier.

Her name was Evelyn Collins.

For eight years, I had called her Mom.

Now investigators called her a person of interest.

At three in the morning, I sat at the kitchen counter in the secure apartment, staring at her photograph.

Evelyn wore a red dress.

Barnes stood beside her.

Officer Lewis was behind them, younger and clean-shaven.

On Evelyn’s other side stood a man I recognized immediately.

My father.

I zoomed in.

My father looked tense.

His hand was lifted as if he had been caught in the middle of an argument.

“What was he doing with them?” I whispered.

Thomas Bell had included the photograph in a folder of records he brought to the apartment.

He sat across from me, his shoulders bent with age.

“I had never seen that picture,” he said.

“Did my father know Evelyn?”

“Yes.”

The answer was too quick.

I looked up.

“You knew.”

Thomas removed his glasses and cleaned them slowly.

“I knew they had met.”

“That is not what I asked.”

He sighed.

“Your father investigated Derek before your wedding.”

The room seemed to grow colder.

“What?”

“He was concerned about how quickly the relationship became serious.”

“My father loved Derek.”

“No. Your father tolerated him because you loved him.”

I shook my head.

“That isn’t true. He paid for part of our wedding.”

“He paid because you were happy.”

Thomas placed his glasses back on.

“But he never trusted Derek.”

“Why didn’t he tell me?”

“He tried.”

I remembered arguments during my engagement.

My father asking whether I was certain.

My father saying Derek seemed too interested in our finances.

My father suggesting a prenuptial agreement.

I had accused him of judging Derek because Derek’s family had less money.

Derek had comforted me afterward.

He had said my father wanted to control me.

“He asked me to sign a prenup,” I whispered.

“Yes.”

“Derek said it proved my father thought he was a thief.”

Thomas looked at me with deep sadness.

“Your father suspected he was.”

The truth opened old wounds I had buried.

“My father and I barely spoke during the last year of his life.”

“I know.”

“Derek told me Dad was trying to destroy our marriage.”

“I know.”

“And you said nothing?”

“I was bound by your father’s instructions and by attorney-client privilege.”

“He was my father.”

“And he believed confronting you directly would push you further toward Derek.”

He was right.

I hated that he was right.

During my engagement, every warning had felt like an attack on my happiness.

Derek had carefully turned concern into control.

He convinced me that anyone who questioned him was questioning my intelligence.

So I defended him.

I defended him against my father.

Against Emily.

Against old friends.

Against every instinct that whispered something was wrong.

Thomas opened another folder.

“Your father hired a private investigator. He discovered Rachel’s marriage to Derek.”

I stared at him.

“He knew?”

“He knew Derek had used another name. He knew Rachel had lost property during the divorce. But Rachel refused to speak with him.”

“Because Evelyn threatened her.”

“That is what we believe.”

“Why didn’t Dad stop the wedding?”

“He confronted Derek privately.”

“When?”

“Three days before the ceremony.”

My heart ached.

“What happened?”

“Derek denied everything. He claimed Rachel was unstable and had stalked him for years.”

The same story.

Always the same story.

Thomas continued.

“Your father then confronted Evelyn. That photograph may have been taken during the meeting.”

“And Barnes?”

“Your father reported concerns about financial fraud to the police.”

“To Barnes.”

“Yes.”

I closed my eyes.

My father had asked a corrupt detective for help.

Instead of protecting him, Barnes had warned Evelyn.

“What happened after the meeting?”

“Your father told me he planned to speak to you again after the honeymoon.”

“He never did.”

“No.”

“Why?”

Thomas looked down.

“Because two weeks after your wedding, he suffered the first of several unexplained health episodes.”

I stopped breathing.

“My father had heart problems.”

“That was the medical conclusion.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying your father was healthy before the wedding.”

I stood so quickly that the chair scraped backward.

“You think they killed him?”

“I do not know.”

“You have thought about it.”

“Yes.”

“For nine years?”

“Yes.”

Anger tore through me.

“Why did you wait?”

“Because suspicion is not proof.”

“You created the trust because you were suspicious.”

“Your father created it.”

Thomas opened a thick envelope.

“He changed the terms six days before his death.”

The signature at the bottom was my father’s.

I recognized the heavy downward stroke of the M in Miller.

He had added protections preventing Derek from becoming a trustee.

He had also left a sealed statement.

Thomas placed it in front of me.

My hands shook as I opened it.

The letter was dated nine years earlier.

My dearest Sarah,

I stopped.

The room blurred.

I had not seen my father’s handwriting in years.