“I don't know.”
Derek laughed in disbelief.
“You don't know how my access card ended up in your car?”
“I found it.”
“Where?”
Rebecca looked at the ground.
“Your kitchen.”
“And put it in your car?”
“I was going to return it.”
“When?”
“I don't know.”
Derek stared.
“That makes no sense.”
She closed her eyes.
“I know.”
I looked at Sheriff Mercer.
“What about Thomas?”
Mercer nodded toward the archival page.
“His old contractor credentials were linked to the same site.”
My father whispered:
“He worked electrical maintenance.”
“According to county records, yes.”
“That wasn’t secret.”
“No.”
Mercer looked at me.
“What was never investigated properly was why his credential remained active four months after he supposedly left the contract.”
Derek turned toward him.
“What are you saying?”
Mercer did not answer immediately.
I did.
“That Uncle Thomas kept accessing the site after his employment ended.”
Derek stared at me.
“He wouldn't.”
I looked at him.
“You don't know that.”
He flinched.
Maybe because I used the exact kind of certainty he had spent his life using on everyone else.
Mercer continued.
“There’s more.”
Of course there was.
There is always more when a buried family secret finally decides to surface.
The original investigation into Thomas’s death had been handled by the same county office that managed access credentials for the communications site.
The detective assigned to the case was retired now.
The credential audit from that month had vanished.
Not officially destroyed.
Missing.
Thomas’s truck had contained a notebook.
That notebook was listed in the initial inventory.
It did not appear in the final evidence disposition.
My father sat.
Slowly.
“I knew about the notebook.”
Everybody turned toward him.
My mother whispered:
“Walter.”
Dad looked at her.
“I never saw it.”
“What was in it?”
“I don't know.”
“How did you know?”
“Thomas called me the night before he died.”
Rebecca made a sound.
Not quite a gasp.
More like pain escaping.
Derek stared at my father.
“You never told us that.”
Dad closed his eyes.
“I know.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he’d made a mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“He wouldn't explain.”
Derek stepped closer.
“You let us think Dad just crashed his truck?”
Walter stood.
“I believed he did.”
“You just said he called you.”
“I thought he was drunk.”
“Was he?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why didn't you tell police?”
“I did.”
Derek stopped.
“You did?”
Walter looked at Mercer.
“The deputy I spoke to told me the crash had already been ruled accidental.”
Mercer frowned.
“Who?”
Dad said the name.
Sheriff Mercer went completely still.
I knew enough from his expression to understand.
“Who was he?”
Mercer answered quietly.
“My predecessor.”
That changed everything.
Derek shook his head.
“No.”
Mercer looked at him.
“Your father’s death may have been investigated under a conflict of interest.”
Rebecca cried harder.
Todd had not moved in several minutes.
Finally he said:
“Mom, did you know?”
She shook her head.