“Obsessively.” No hesitation, just fact delivered with the same clinical detachment he'd shown in the alley. “He's corrupt and your sister's case fits the pattern.”
My hands curled into fists on the table. “What pattern?”
“Cases that closed fast and clean despite inconsistencies that should have raised questions.” He pulled a folder from the bag beside him and slid it across the table. “Lily's case has all of those markers.”
I stared at it like it might bite me. “What's in there?”
“Photocopies of documents that were supposed to be sealed. Witness statements. Forensic reports. Timeline analysis.” His voice stayed steady, professional. “Evidence that suggests your sister's death wasn't investigated properly.”
“Her husband confessed.”
“Did he? Or did he sign a confession after four days of interrogation by people who'd already decided he was guilty?” Cal's expression didn't shift. “Confessions can be coerced, Dom. Especially when someone with power wants a case closed quickly.”
“You're saying Harrow fabricated evidence.”
“I'm saying he shaped the narrative. Controlled what evidence was examined and what was buried. Prosecuted the case personally instead of delegating, which is unusual fordomestic violence cases.” He gestured toward the folder. “Read it yourself. Tell me if the timeline makes sense. If the forensic analysis matches the husband's confession. If any of it feels like actual investigation instead of performance.”
I opened the folder with hands that wanted to shake but didn't, because I'd spent years teaching myself to stay steady when my mind was chaos. The first document was a witness statement I'd never seen, a neighbour reporting that they'd heard arguing the night Lily died, but the voices were wrong. Too many of them for just Lily and her husband.
The second document was a forensic report noting bruising patterns inconsistent with the falls described in the official narrative. Defensive wounds on Lily's hands suggesting she'd fought someone, but no corresponding injuries on her husband's body.
The third was a timeline showing seventeen minutes missing from security footage near Lily's flat, dismissed in the official report as a technical malfunction.
I read through them all, my memory cataloguing every detail with the clarity that came from recall I'd never asked for and couldn't turn off. Each document built on the last, painting a picture that looked nothing like the story I'd been told.
“This doesn't prove anything,” I said finally, voice rough. “It's inconsistencies. Questions. Not proof.”
“No. But it's enough to suggest someone didn't want those questions asked.” Cal's gaze stayed on mine. “Do you believe your brother-in-law killed her?”
I'd asked myself the same thing a thousand times in the three years since Lily died.
“I don't know,” I admitted. “The evidence said he did. He confessed. The court convicted him. But something about it never felt right. The speed of it. The way nobody would answermy questions. The way the case got sealed before I could even request the full file.”
“Your instincts were correct.” His voice softened slightly, though his expression stayed controlled. “Harrow doesn't just prosecute cases. He controls them. Decides what truth looks like. And your sister's death threatened something or someone important enough that he made sure the investigation ended before anyone could dig deeper.”
“Why are you telling me this? What do you want?”
“I want Harrow.” No hesitation. “I've been building a case against him for three years. Gathering evidence, tracking patterns, identifying every judge and clerk and cop he's corrupted. But I can't touch him alone. He's too well-protected, too connected. I need resources I don't have.”
“You want to use me.”
“I want to work with you.” The distinction felt deliberate. “You have access to Adrian's network. Connections to people who won't talk to a disgraced PI. Protection I can't get anywhere else. I have years of investigative work. Evidence you can't obtain legally. Witness statements that were buried. Together, we might actually take him down.”
“I don't work for people,” I said carefully. “If you're looking for muscle or someone to follow orders, find someone else.”
“I'm not looking for an employee. I'm proposing a partnership. Equal stake, shared intelligence. You bring resources and connections. I bring evidence and investigative expertise. We coordinate instead of competing.”
“And if I say no?”
“Then we both keep spinning our wheels separately. You keep hitting walls because you don't have the evidence to prove what you already know. I keep gathering evidence without the protection to use it before Harrow's people find me.” He leaned forward, the movement casual despite the intensity in thosemismatched eyes. “But Lily deserves better than both of us failing because we're too stubborn to cooperate.”
Anger spiked hot in my chest. “Don't use my sister's name to manipulate me.”
“I'm not manipulating you. I'm being honest about the stakes.” His voice stayed level. “Harrow buried your sister's case. Made sure nobody would question the narrative he built. And he's still doing it, still corrupting investigations, still protecting people who deserve prison. You want justice for Lily? This is how you get it. Not by working alone. By working smart.”
He was right, and I hated it. Hated that some stranger who'd spent an hour taking me apart now held information I needed. Hated that cooperation felt like surrender. Hated that my grief had made me blind to connections someone else had found in months.
“I need to think about it,” I said finally.
