He switched off his body camera.
The blinking red recording light disappeared.
Across the room…
The evidence-room door had been left partially open.
Fresh muddy footprints stretched across the hallway.
A soaking-wet blanket lay crumpled beneath Captain Landry’s desk.
Most people never notice details.
I always noticed them.
People constantly underestimated me because I rarely raised my voice.
Because I preferred listening over speaking.
That assumption almost always became an expensive mistake.
My name is Clara Carter.
To my relatives…
I was simply the quiet daughter who had moved away years ago and rarely returned home.
They never bothered asking what I actually did for a living.
I served as Special Counsel to the Attorney General.
My job involved investigating police corruption…
And prosecuting crimes committed against vulnerable elderly victims.
Six days from now…
The Westbridge Police Department was scheduled for a confidential integrity inspection.
Only the department’s senior command even knew it existed.
Across the room…
My mother sat handcuffed to a cold metal bench.
Helena Carter.
One eye had swollen nearly shut.
Dried blood streaked the edge of her hairline.
Her sweater was ripped.
She looked completely exhausted.
Only a few feet away…
Brooke leaned dramatically against Arthur.
The only visible injury she carried…
Was a tiny adhesive bandage on her cheek.
“She attacked me!”
Brooke cried loudly enough for everyone nearby to hear.
“She’s dangerous!”
Arthur refused to look directly at me.
