The killer watched my parents through the glass and smiled wider.
"Your girl fought," he said, settling back in the chair. "Even at the end, when the pain got bad. She kept hold of that cheap silver locket and whispered 'Mom' into her own blood."
My mother hit the glass with both fists. The dull thuds continued until a detective pulled her back.
My father slammed both palms on the table. "Who hired you? Tell me the name!"
The killer laughed. "Why tell you when I can show you? Check the burner phone you found on me. Evidence file C-12. There's a parking-garage video of my down payment."
The lead detective entered the evidence code on a tablet and set it in front of my father.
The grainy video showed an underground parking garage under sickly yellow lights. A timestamp ran along the bo
