2 septembre 2026

I knew something was wrong before she even spoke.

Brake line damage inconsistent with ordinary wear.

Below that, handwritten in faded blue ink:

Customer advised vehicle may have been tampered with.

A coldness spread through my chest so quickly it felt physical.

“What is this?” I whispered.

Emily swallowed hard.

“That’s what I asked too.”

I looked up at her.

She seemed suddenly younger and older at the same time. Twenty-five years old sitting across from me, but with the same frightened eyes she had in the hospital all those years ago.

“The police never told you?” she asked.

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