I clicked the next image.
The screen flickered. The files were corrupted. They wouldn't load.
My stomach dropped. I tried another file. Same error. Another, and another.
"No." The word came out strangled. I shoved back from the table in frustration. "No, no, no!"
"The files are corrupted," Vivienne said. "Water and sand got in."
"Or someone tampered with them before Peyton buried it." My hands shook. I pressed them flat against the table. "Can they be recovered?"
Vivienne tapped a few keys on the laptop. After a moment, she shook her head. "This is beyond me. You'd need a forensic specialist. The police have?—"
"NO!"
We both turned. Mia stood pressed against the counter, eyes wild.
"Why not?" I asked.
Mia's gaze dropped. She traced the counter edge with one finger and wouldn't meet my eyes.
"Mia." Vivienne's voice was gentle but firm. "If Peytonburied this camera, she was hiding something that incriminatesher, not you. The police can?—"
"They can't see it." Mia's voice cracked. "They can't."
Something cold slithered down my spine. The way she'd said it. Terrified. Guilty. "Why not, Mia?"
She wrapped her arms around herself, rocking slightly. "The pictures might show... they might..."
Vivienne stood and strode around the table, toward Mia. "Show what?"
Mia flinched away. "I can't. You'll hate me. Both of you will hate me."
"Mia…" I started.
"I did something." The words burst out of her like a wound opening. "That night. I did something, and if they see the pictures they'll know and—" Her breath hitched. Tears spilled down her cheeks. "I'm sorry."
Vivienne had gone very still, very pale. "What did you do?"
The question sat between us, sharp as glass.
I wanted to move, to go to my daughter, but my legs wouldn't work. My voice sounded far away. "What are you saying?"
Headlights swept the kitchen. A car door slammed. Close, right outside. The police lights bled through the slats of Vivienne's shutters, red-blue-red, steady as a heartbeat.
Every maternal instinct screamed at me to grab Mia and run. But there was nowhere left to go. I crossed to Mia in three strides. I gripped her shoulders. "Look at me."
She did. Tears streamed down her blotchy face, her eyes wild with anguish and fear. Mascara traced black rivulets down her cheeks. She looked haunted.
I kept my voice low, urgent. "I can't help you unless you tell me the truth. All of it. Right now."
"They'll arrest me."
"They're going to arrest you anyway. The only chance we have is the truth. Do you understand? Thetruth."
Someone knocked on the front door. Hard, authoritative. "Mr. and Mrs. Cho? This is the police. We need to speak with you."
Vivienne didn't move. Her gaze stayed locked on Mia. "What did you do to my daughter?"
