The city blurred outside the cab window, neon lights smearing into streaks of gold and red. My pulse hadn’t slowed since I left the nonprofit.
The envelope, the report, and the photo burned against my chest like poison I couldn’t spit out.
Daniel.
His name had been pounding in my skull the entire ride.
My father’s weak voice in the hospital bed replayed over and over: Daniel knows… the truth about the accident.
And then the photo I found, the crash site, the blood on the asphalt, and that blurred silhouette that looked too much like him to ignore.
I wanted to believe he wasn’t capable of that. But every new piece of evidence pulled me closer to a terrifying possibility: maybe I didn’t know Daniel at all.
By the time the cab stopped in front of the high-rise on Fifth, I was shaking
