returned to the safe.
The silver key turned.
The door opened.
Inside was a VHS tape, a stack of cassette recordings, a bank envelope, and a photograph of Lily’s mother standing in that same records room.
She was younger.
Alive.
Smiling without joy.
Beside her stood Sheriff Mercer.
Behind them, half in shadow, stood Buck.
Lily’s skin went cold.
The photo was dated two days before her mother died.
Buck had not “found out later.”
Buck had been here.
Lily opened the bank envelope.
Inside were three things.
A cashier’s
