My pulse jumped.
Hersh looked down immediately.
Wolf carefully lifted a false cardboard panel hidden beneath the letters.
And underneath?—
my stomach dropped.
Photographs.
Dozens of them.
Old surveillance photos.
My breath caught violently.
“Oh my God…”
Wolf spread them across the floor carefully.
Pictures of:
my father outside the house,
me leaving work,
the grocery store,
the churchparking lot,
the mailbox,
the diner in town.
Some were taken not long before my father died.
But others?—
My knees nearly gave out.
Others were years old.
Trigger looked sick now.
“How long were they watching her?”
No one answered.
Because suddenly the timeline became horrifying.
This wasn’t about witnessing a murder.
This started long before that.
Hersh slowly picked up one photograph.
His jaw tightened instantly.
