“And you are?” she asked.
“Ace Mercer.”
Recognition flickered. “Ranger.”
“Yeah.”
She nodded once, filing that away, then looked back at me.
“You said you had something that changes everything,” she said.
My throat tightened for a second.
Then I stepped aside and gestured toward the table.
“I do.”
We sat.
Her notebook came out immediately. Phone next. Recording already on before she even asked.
“Go ahead,” she said.
No warm-up.
No easing in.
Just truth.
My hands curled together in my lap, but I didn’t look away.
“I didn’t kill Cathy Reynolds,” I said.
The words landed between us.
Heavy.
Final.
Her pen paused.
Then continued.
“According to official records, you confessed to driving under the influence and causing the crash,” she said.
“I did confess,” I said. “But it wasn’t the truth.”
Her eyes lifted to mine.
“Then why say it?”
Because this is where it breaks open.
I swallowed once.
“Because she asked me to.”
Silence.
