The state investigator clicked play.
A woman’s voice filled the room.
“If anyone finds this, Gavin did not kill me.”
Gavin bowed his head.
His shoulders began shaking.
The voice continued.
“I let them say I was dead because they told me Chloe would disappear if I didn’t.
They said Gavin was already ruined.
They said the jury would believe anything once they had blood, fingerprints, and a husband with a motive.”
Mitchell’s jaw tightened.
On the table lay the red box.
Letters.
Medical records.
A second photograph.
And now the recording that made the entire trial sound less like justice and more like theater.
Chloe sat in the next room with a child advocate, holding the blue star charm in both hands.
Through the glass, she kept watching her father, as if she feared that if she
blinked, the state might take him
away again.
The recording crackled.
