Jake
I’d spent six years believing Mara’s death was the worst thing that had ever happened to me.
Turns out, finding out people had made money from it came pretty damn close.
I stood in the garage staring at Sophia’s laptop. Evelyn Blackwell’s signature sat beneath Daniel Vance’s on a confidentiality agreement dated eleven days before Mara died.
Eleven days.
The same day Daniel received twenty-five thousand dollars.
“Tell me this is real,” I said.
Sophia shifted uncomfortably. “It’s a scanned copy. I haven’t authenticated the signatures.”
“Then find the original.”
“Working on it, Pres.”
Nash stepped beside me. “We need to know what they were paying him to keep quiet about.”
“I know what I’d like to ask him.”
“Daniel’s dead, brother.”
“I wasn’t talking about Daniel.”
Emma stoo
