Amelia’s POV
The ride to the station was suffocating. Detective John’s vehicle smelled of leather and faint cologne, but I barely noticed as my thoughts churned. I kept replaying everything in my mind—the text, the photograph, and now this: being escorted as a suspect for the death of a man I barely knew or communicated with.
John. The man in the photo wasn’t just anyone; it was John Liam, Richard’s brother. My hands clenched involuntarily at the memory of his visit a few weeks ago. He’d come to discuss Richard’s will and the properties he had left behind for Mark and me. Properties I didn’t want and had no intention of taking.
John had been different from Richard. Kind, but spineless—always looking away when his brother’s cruelty left me in tears. Yet, in his quiet way, he had tried to
