Her face went blank.
“Andrew, it’s late.”
“Fifty thousand dollars,” he said. “Paid out for a dead child who wasn’t dead.”
Mary placed her purse on the counter.
“That was insurance. That’s what it’s for.”
“Most of it went to your mother.”
“She was grieving too.”
“She was keeping Harry in her basement.”
Mary’s mouth tightened.
“You are connecting things that don’t belong together.”
“Then explain it.”
She took a breath.
Her voice softened.
“Andrew, you are grieving again. I understand that. But if you keep chasing this idea that I knew, you’re going to destroy what’s left of this family.”
Andrew closed the laptop.
“This family was destroyed five years ago.”
Mary stepped closer.
“I am your wife.”
Andrew looked toward the couch, where Harry slept curled under a blanket.
“And he is my son.”
The next morning, Andrew took everything to Officer Dennison.
The photos.
The bank screenshots.
Harry’s account of hearing Mary’s voice.
The drawing from the basement.
Dennison listened carefully.
“This helps,” he said. “But connecting Mary to it will take more.”
“What do you need?”
“Communication records. Financial records. Witnesses. Something that shows coordination.”
Andrew nodded.
Dennison leaned back.
