Chapter 3: The Secret Buried For Twenty Years
My parents supposedly died in a car accident.
That's what everyone told me.
Twenty years.
Twenty years believing it.
Twenty years grieving.
Twenty years visiting a grave.
A grave that suddenly felt like a lie.
Malcolm opened another folder.
Photos spilled across the bed.
Old photos.
Police reports.
Witness statements.
Insurance records.
My hands started shaking.
Then I saw it.
One sentence highlighted in yellow.
Brake line intentionally damaged.
The room spun.
"What is this?"
Malcolm looked sick.
"The original investigation."
"No."
He nodded.
"The accident wasn't an accident."
I couldn't breathe.
The report continued.
Evidence disappeared.
Witnesses changed statements.
Police suddenly closed the case.
Every page looked worse than the one before.
Then came the final photograph.
A younger Leonard Whitmore.
Standing beside the wreckage.
Smiling.
My stomach dropped.
"No."
Malcolm closed his eyes.
"Your grandfather spent twenty years trying to prove it."
Tears filled my eyes.
"You think he killed them?"
Malcolm shook his head.
"Worse."
The room became very quiet.
May you like
Then he spoke.
"We know he didn't act alone."
