Chapter 7: The Meeting
Detective Carla Voss was younger than I expected — mid-forties, sharp eyes, a no-nonsense manner that felt like a relief after days of not knowing who to trust.
She met us at a state office building, not a police station.
Roy had been specific about that.
We sat in a plain conference room with no windows and she put a recorder on the table and asked me to start from the beginning.
I talked for almost an hour.
She didn't interrupt.
She made notes.
When I finished, she looked at the USB drive Roy had placed on the table between us.
"May I?" she said.
"Yes."
She opened the files.
She watched the video.
She read Jeremy's notes.
Her expression didn't change, but her jaw tightened slightly on the line where Jeremy had written: *I don't want to carry this anymore.*
When she finished, she sat back.
"The camera outage on Hartley Road," she said.
"How did you obtain that information?"
Roy answered.
"Through a contact in the county traffic authority.
The outage is documented.
It's not hidden — it just hasn't been connected to anything yet."
"It will be now." She looked at me.
"Mrs.
Hartley, I want to be honest with you.
I cannot tell you yet whether your son's accident was deliberate.
What I can tell you is that we have sufficient grounds to open a formal investigation into Gary Mercer and Dennis Pryor, and that the timeline you've presented is something we will examine very carefully."
"If it was deliberate," I said.
"If someone caused that accident — what happens?"
"Then it becomes a homicide investigation." She said it plainly, without softening it.
"And the people responsible face charges that carry serious prison time."
I nodded.
I had known that was the word.
I had been avoiding it for days.
"There's something else," I said.
I showed her the photograph on my phone — me and Dana through the kitchen window.
Her expression shifted.
"When did you receive this?"
"Last night."
"And the text message before it?"
Roy had already shared that with her.
She looked at both again.
"You need to stay somewhere else tonight," she said.
"Both of you.
Don't go back to that house until I tell you it's clear."
"It's my house."
"I understand that.
And I'm asking you to trust me for the next seventy-two hours." She looked at me steadily.
"You've done the hard part.
You found what your son left for you.
You brought it to the right people.
Now let us do our part."
Roy put his hand briefly on my arm.
I looked at Voss.
"Seventy-two hours," I said.
"Yes."
I pushed the USB drive across the table toward her.
"Find out what happened to my son," I said.
She picked up the drive and held it carefully, the way you hold something that matters.
"I will," she said.
Outside in the parking lot, Roy walked me to Dana's car.
The afternoon was grey and cold.
I stopped before I got in.
"Do you think they'll run?" I said.
"Mercer and Pryor.
If they know the investigation is opening—"
"Voss will move fast," Roy said.
"She's been waiting for a reason to move on Pryor for two years.
She has it now."
I got in the car.
Dana started driving.
Three blocks from the office building, a dark van pulled out of a side street behind us and followed for two turns before taking a different road.
Dana saw it in the mirror.
May you like
She didn't say anything.
She just drove faster.
