third line down, Detective,” I instructed softly.
Vance leaned over the table, his eyes narrowing as he read the glowing text, and his jaw visibly tightened, the muscles in his neck strained against his rumpled collar.
At exactly 9:24 p.m., precisely 10 minutes after the frontal airbags deployed in the SUV, my mother’s phone had initiated an outgoing call.
The receiving number was listed simply as 911 emergency services.
The call duration was 47 seconds.
“It wasn’t an anonymous concerned citizen,” I said, my tone dropping into an
