Chapter 7 - Sunday Night
Mark did not speak for almost a minute.
Then he asked, "Are you saying Vanessa killed Dad?"
Evelyn recoiled.
"No. I'm saying they argued."
"Dad threatened to call police. He died the next day. You hid that for six years."
"I was afraid."
"Of what?"
"Of losing both of my children."
Mark laughed once.
"You chose one."
Detective Ruiz met us outside.
She had news.
Vanessa had retained attorney Grant Mercer and was refusing further interviews.
But the dashcam footage had been authenticated.
"Is it enough?" I asked.
"It's strong evidence. We also have the attempted removal of the memory card under review."
"Attempted?"
Ruiz was careful.
"We're not assigning conduct until the lab finishes."
Then Ruiz turned to Mark.
"We need to ask about your father."
Evelyn must have called.
Mark nodded.
At the station, he gave them the warning letter, transfer sheet, and forged executive document.
Then Dave called.
"Sarah, is Mark with you?"
"Yes."
"My brakes are gone."
I stood up.
"What?"
"I noticed before I got onto the interstate. Pedal dropped to the floor in the depot lot."
Mark took the phone.
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
"Call police."
"I did."
Dave went quiet.
Then said, "There's more."
"What?"
"Someone left an envelope under my windshield."
"What does it say?"
Dave read it.
YOUR WIFE SHOULD HAVE KEPT HER MOUTH SHUT TOO.
Mark closed his eyes.
Maria.
Dave's wife had died two years earlier from cancer.
Ruiz sent officers.
The brake line had been cut.
And the envelope contained a photograph.
Not of Dave.
Not of Maria.
Of Chloe leaving school three weeks earlier.
May you like
On the back were two handwritten words.
WRONG WITNESS.
