But in my hand was a letter from my sister explaining that the man who raised us might have murdered our mother—and that evidence was hidden beneath my roof.
Ben finally looked at me.
“You should go home and get the drive.”
“You’re coming.”
“I’m not leaving Rosie.”
“Then I’ll go alone.”
“No.”
“You just said the evidence has to be secured.”
“I also said Richard may know.”
“I’m not waiting while he destroys it.”
Ben’s face hardened.
“I’ll call someone I trust.”
“Who?”
“A detective.”
“You said we didn’t have enough for the police.”
“Not officially. But I know someone who will listen.”
I remembered then that Ben’s older cousin, Daniel Mercer, worked major crimes for the county sheriff’s department.
“Call him.”
Ben took out his phone.
Before he could dial, mine rang.
The screen showed DAD.
Neither of us spoke.
