Chapter 6 - The First Letter
Two weeks after sentencing, I received a letter with no return address.
Inside was a single sentence.
The staircase camera was not broken.
No signature.
No explanation.
At trial, my parents testified that the home security system had malfunctioned before the anniversary dinner.
A technician produced a report showing the staircase camera was offline.
I had never questioned it deeply because the report looked official.
Now someone was telling me footage existed.
I sent the letter to my appellate attorney, Lena Ortiz.
She visited the next week.
“The technician was subcontracted,” she said. “His company closed three months after your trial.”
“Find him.”
“We’re trying.”
“Who sent the letter?”
“No fingerprints. Postmarked Tempe.”
“Could it be Nora?”
Lena shook her head.
“Nora testified against you and has refused contact.”
“She was afraid of Dylan.”
“She still signed a sworn statement.”
I looked through the glass partition.
“She looked at him before every important answer.”
Lena had noticed too.
The prosecution portrayed it as trauma.
I saw fear.
I asked Lena to investigate the old car accident.
She hesitated.
“That case is fifteen years old.”
“Dylan said we were even.”
“He may have meant your investigation.”
“No. He looked at me like he had been waiting years.”
Lena agreed to request the full crash file.
The official report we received during trial was only six pages.
The original file contained forty-three.
Seventeen pages were missing from the county archive.
Someone had removed photographs, witness notes, and toxicology attachments.
The same week, another letter arrived.
This one contained a key.
Small.
Silver.
Wrapped in tissue.
May you like
A handwritten note said:
Ask Nora what she locked inside Box 214.
