Ethan

“What do you mean, this isn’t enough?” l growl, glaring at the investigator. I’ve just handed him everything we found in Eve’s safe, from her murder schemes to her personal legends detailing all the money she stole from the Atelier over the years. To my shock and absolute fury, the detective simply blinked and told me it was all circumstantial.

“Sir, no one saw her writing this, we don’t know that it actually belongs to her.” He insists stubbornly.

“Are you serious?” l demand. What I really want to ask is ‘do you even have a brain? or ‘how the hell did you get this job when you clearly aren’t intelligent enough to have made it through grade school.’

However I have a long history of playing the diplomat in the face of challenging people, so I restrain myself – though not without difficulty.”It’s practically a full confession, it was locked in a safe in her room and it’s in her handwriting. The perspective of events she describes makes it obvious she’s the author.”

Shaking his head, he frowns. “That’s all speculation.”

“You haven’t even had time to fully examine it.”I hiss, “Just go through it, you’ll see that I’m right.”

“I can’t accept that.” The detective refuses, seriously testing my patience. “It’s not admissible evidence. It wasn’t found in an official police search or with a warrant, and you admitted you broke into her safe to access it. No court in the world would accept it.”

I’m a concerned citizen, who found evidence in my own home and I’m bringing it to you with all the details of its discovery. That’s perfectly admissible!” I grumble, wondering if perhaps I should have left it in the safe and called them to the house. However the man’s next words make it abundantly clear he’s less worried about the chain of evidence, than he is with passing off the blame.

“And how do I know you didn’t doctor all this stuff?

” He asks impudently, “You could have made it all up.!”

“Are you accusing me of fraud?” | question harshly,

“the victim was my mother, I want to find her killer more than anyone.”

seeming the least bit sincere. “I simply mean that you’d

now.” l grit out, resisting

that really

– so staggering that it’s beginning to defy belief. It makes me wonder why you’re so determined to imprison the wrong woman, and why you

direction of an investigation, or the first entitled nobleman who thinks they can pull a few strings and make things go their way. The force commander hates those types more than anyone – so you go right ahead. Just

I didn’t go to the force commander. Not just

in the private investigator I used to look into Eric, telling him I needed everything he could find me on the police investigator – as

last night after she confronted Eric, telling me she

because I didn’t want to get Jane’s hopes up when I knew there was a chance things wouldn’t be resolved easily. I’ve been suspicious

look on her face when she hears the news, and I don’t want her to know that the kids

for one night when she wasn’t even there is a very different matter than dragging it out for Goddess knows how long. I love my kids, but four year olds aren’t the best secret keepers, especially not when they’re so excited by

because around five thirty I get a call from

do you mean?” I ask, feeling a

“Already?”

in his own abilities that he thinks he’s completely above suspicion and doesn’t need to cover his

eagerly,

announces, “and he has truly terrible taste. “Would you like

I mutter, feeling a profound sense of

he’s the father, because they’ve been sleeping together since before Jane came back into town. He has a cache of photos and videos

been stringing him along for months, promising to let him claim her completely if he helps her get away with

l ask, “I suppose you didn’t

his system l sent a few emails from his account. One to the commander, a few to the papers. It ll be obvious that he didn’t send the files himself, but he made a very

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