“Could you elaborate on the new income source?” I ask.
“She said she won the lottery. Just a small win. Enough to put a deposit on the new location she found with Andy, who also got her a discount. It seemed like the stars were aligning for her. And then to do something so reckless? We told Officer Ingram it didn’t make any sense.”
“How did he respond to you?” Anton asks. “When you mentioned how well things were going for Zoe.”
Rich shakes his head and shrugs. “He was sympathetic, of course.”
Anton glances at me for permission to dive deeper. He has it. All of it.
This isn’t about pride and proving anymore. It’s about giving these parents peace. About potentially catching the killer I’m now convinced more than ever is out there and trying hard to cover this up.
“Mr. and Mrs. Marshall.” Anton leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Did you see any proof of her winning anything? Did she describe any further what lottery she played or how much she won?”
“No.” Rich shakes his head. “That was the strange thing. She was as elusive about the money as she was about this Mace character.”
Anton nods as though that was the answer he expected.
It’s time to follow up on the new information. I close my notebook and stand, and Anton follows my cue.
“Mr. and Mrs. Marshall, thank you for your time. Would it be okay if we keep you informed and possibly come by for more questions?”
They stand, as well.
“Of course,” Rich says. “Anything for more answers. I understand maybe we’re just not willing to accept it, but none of this seems right. You know?”
I nod, empathetically. “I understand.”
And believe you’re right even though I can’t say it.
We say goodbye, and outside, the cold hits me, a welcome cooling after burning up in there.
As we walk down their path, Anton takes my hand. “Were you okay in there?”
“Yeah, it was just some weird cramping or something.”
“Do you think it was Braxton-Hicks?” he asks, concern etched on his features.
I raise an eyebrow. “They’ve gotten to that part in the audiobook, have they?”
“I’ve listened all the way through diapers now.”
We arrive at his truck, and he opens the door for me. “I think that was it. I’m fine now.”
He walks around the other side and gets into the truck with me, the air inside suddenly so still. He doesn’t start the engine while both of our minds reel with the new information.
I break the silence. “I assume you read the case file front to back?”
“Mmm…” He’s deep in thought. “None of that was in there.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
What this means is deeply unsettling. Ingram didn’t just lie about the bodycam timestamp. He omitted the Marshalls’ statements, Mace…and he falsified the entire case.
“Is it time to loop in Chief?” I ask.
“That’s one option,” he answers. “But there’s a lot to think through before you do.”
My jaw tightens. “Like what? I couldn’t use GhostEye’s findings, but this?” I point to the house behind us. “They gave Ingram all of that. And none of it made it into the report.”
