Page 112 of Lemon Pound Cake Club

"Ms. Calloway."

“Graham now.”

I shut the door behind me and placed the small black hard drive on his desk.

"I think this belongs with an old case."

He glanced at the drive, then looked up at me. I slid a yellowed slip with a case number and a name across the desk.

23-001234-Mari Calloway

His expression shifted.

"I remember this."

"I’m afraid I do too."

He picked up the folder and flipped through pages that hadn’t been touched for years.

"The cameras never gave us anything."

"They do now."

He looked at the hard drive.

"What's on it?"

I held his gaze.

"Everything you thought was deleted."

The room fell silent.

"I don't understand."

"You will." I stood up. "When you watch it, you'll see why that file should never have been closed."

Before he could ask another question, I walked toward the door.

"Mrs. Graham"

I stopped.

"If what's on this drive is what you say it is."

I looked over my shoulder.

"It is, and Detective," I rested my hand on the doorknob. "She deserves to have her name spoken like a victim, not a case number."

I left, feeling like a heavy weight had finally been lifted. By the time I got to the detention center, the detective was probably watching history play out, frame by frame.

Camille smiled the moment she saw me, her face bright with hope.

That was the first thing I noticed. She rushed to the visitation window and picked up the phone.

"Maci."

I picked up the phone and put it to my ear.