“We’ll discuss this later.”
Derek started:
“Sir, she—”
“Later.”
Derek stopped.
Mercer then turned toward Aunt Rebecca.
He held up a clear evidence bag.
Inside was a county access credential.
Derek’s photograph was clearly visible.
Rebecca stepped backward.
Derek frowned.
“What is that?”
Mercer did not look at him.
“Mrs. Nolan.”
Rebecca’s breathing became shallow.
“We recovered this approximately twenty minutes ago from your vehicle.”
Derek stared at his mother.
“Mom?”
She said nothing.
Mercer reached into his jacket.
He removed a sealed envelope.
“There’s something else.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“No.”
Derek stepped toward her.
“What did you do?”
“Derek—”
“What did you do?”
She looked at me.
Then my father.
Then Grandma Evelyn.
Finally she whispered:
“Rachel…”
Mercer opened the envelope.
He removed a page.
His expression shifted.
Then he said a name nobody in my family had spoken aloud in eighteen years.
“Thomas Carter.”
My father dropped the barbecue tongs.
Metal struck concrete.
My mother closed her eyes.
Grandma Evelyn sat down.
I stared at the sheriff.
Thomas Carter had been my father’s younger brother.
My uncle.
Derek and Todd’s father.
Rebecca’s husband.
He had died eighteen years earlier in what everyone called an accident.
Single-vehicle crash.
Late night.
Rural road.
Too fast in bad weather.
That was the family version.
I suddenly understood there had been another.
“What does Thomas have to do with this?”
Mercer looked toward my father.
Walter’s face had gone pale.
“Mr. Carter?”
My father’s voice sounded older than it had ten minutes earlier.
“What did you find?”
Mercer handed the page to me.
It was an archival access log.
Old.
Printed from a digital record.
Eighteen years earlier.
Thomas Carter’s name.
A county contractor credential.
The same restricted communications site.
Multiple entries over six months.
I looked at Derek.
Then Rebecca.
Then Dad.
Nobody spoke.
Mercer continued.
“We reopened several archived credential records after today’s incident.”
“Why?”
“Because the credential used at the gate was Deputy Nolan’s.”
Derek shook his head.
“I didn't go there.”
Mercer looked at him.
“I know.”
Derek stopped.
“You know?”
“Traffic cameras place you across town.”
Relief flashed across his face.
Then confusion.
“So why am I standing here?”
“Because your access card disappeared this morning.”
Derek’s expression changed.
He reached toward his belt.
The card clipped there was not the access credential.
Just department identification.
He patted a second pocket.
Then another.
“Wait.”
Mercer held up the evidence bag.
“We found it in your mother’s SUV.”
Derek looked at Rebecca.
“Mom.”
She started crying.
Quietly.
Almost angrily.
“I didn't use it.”
“Then who did?”