Finally alone, I kicked off my shoes and took a deep breath, unsure if I was ready for another kind of truth. I sat on the edge of the bed and opened the attachment and in it was an old photo where my father stood in the background wearing a security uniform and in front of him stood another man I recognized as Rico’s dad. He looked younger, smiling beside a car. It could have been an ordinary moment, two men captured in their professional element, except for the caption written neatly at the bottom of the image.
Final detail briefing, 7:42 PM.
My eyes moved over it again and again as if repetition might reveal something else but before I could think more, my phone rang.
“I found inconsistencies in the report from that night,” Mr Smith said. “The night Mr. Zane was killed, according to
