The original bottle.
Investigators believed Garrett still had it.
He had moved into my townhouse after my supposed death.
He had not thrown away everything.
Because people who think they have won become careless.
A warrant was obtained.
The house was searched while Garrett attended a board meeting.
They found the bottle behind a false panel in his study.
They found additional sedative compounds.
They found copies of medical notes.
They found draft guardianship papers.
They found photographs of my parents’ old accident file.
And they found something that finally destroyed Victor’s defense.
A letter.
Fifteen years old.
From Victor to a mechanic.
Payment instructions.
Vehicle modifications.
The phrase brake response delay appeared twice.
Tobias stared at the scan.
For fifteen years, he had believed.
Now he had proof.
He sat down.
Then began crying.
Not loudly.
I had never seen my brother cry about our parents.
Not once.
I sat beside him.
He whispered, “I was right.”
“Yes.”
“I wanted to be wrong.”
I took his hand.
“I know.”
For the first time since the river, I forgave part of what he had hidden.
Not everything.
But part.
The arrests happened the next morning.
Garrett was at Mercer Marine.
Victor was in his office across town.
Penelope was at a prenatal appointment.
Agents took them separately.
None had time to warn the others.
Garrett resisted verbally.
He demanded a lawyer.
Victor said almost nothing.
Penelope cried.
Then she asked the question investigators expected.
“Is Rosalind’s body found?”
Agent Brooks later told me that was when they knew she still believed I was dead.
Two days later, Garrett sat in an interview room.
His attorney beside him.
Agent Brooks entered.
Then I walked in.
Garrett looked up.
His entire face changed.
He went white.
Not pale.
White.
His mouth opened.
