Rachel pushed the wheelchair downhill—then the camera exposed the insurance policy.

Two days later, the police called. Rachel was requesting a meeting with me. Alone.

Thomas drove me to the precinct. The building smelled of floor wax and stale coffee. We were led to a small interview room with gray walls and a metal table bolted to the floor.

Rachel sat on one side, wearing a gray detention uniform, hands folded in her lap. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her hair pulled back loosely. She looked small. Defeated.

Thomas waited outside the glass observation window.

I sat opposite her. “You wished to see me?”

Rachel looked up. Her gaze darted to the mirrored wall, then back to me.

“I need to speak to you privately,” she said.

“Everything we say is being recorded,” I told her. “And I have nothing to hide.”

She hesitated. Then she leaned forward, voice dropping low.

“He’s going to kill me.”

“Who?”

“Halloway.” Her hands trembled. “He told me—if anything went wrong, I should remain silent. That he would get me the best lawyers. That in six months I’d be free. But I saw his face when he visited. He looked at me like I was already dead.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I’m terrified!” Tears spilled over. “I didn’t want to hurt you. Truly. Halloway promised Arthur was alive—that he was being held somewhere safe—and that if I helped him, Arthur would be released and we’d all be wealthy. I believed him. I thought… I thought we could save Arthur together.”

My breath caught. “You believed Arthur was alive?”

“Until Halloway told me the news last night.” Rachel wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “He said Arthur was dead. That the accident had been real. And that I was the patsy. The one who would take all the blame.”

I studied her. Was this performance? Another lie?

“Rachel,” I said slowly. “When did you last speak to Arthur?”

“The day before he left. He told me to be careful. That Halloway was dangerous. That if he didn’t come back, I should protect you.” She gave a bitter laugh. “Instead I helped the man who killed him.”

She reached beneath the table and slid something across— a small, crumpled scrap of paper.

“Halloway gave me this list of instructions. He told me exactly when to strike. Exactly what to say. Exactly how to make it look like an accident.”

I picked it up. Halloway’s handwriting. unmistakable.

“Why are you giving this to me?”

“Because I want to make a deal.” Rachel looked me straight in the eye. “I’ll testify against him. I’ll give you everything. All the records. All the conversations. Names of his other associates. But you have to protect me. He has friends everywhere. Even in the police force.”

I sat back. This was unexpected. Rachel turning state’s evidence.

“Why should I trust you?”

“Because Halloway is going to frame me for Arthur’s death as well as yours. And then he’s going to have me killed in prison. I’m the only witness. Dead witnesses tell no tales.” She leaned forward again, urgency sharpening her voice. “I know who his inside contact is. The person who helped him fake Arthur’s death.”

My heart stopped. “Who?”

Rachel hesitated. “I need your word first. Witness protection. Safety for my family. And when it’s all over—you won’t pursue further charges against me beyond what is necessary to put Halloway away.”

I considered it. She had tried to kill me. She had conspired to steal everything I owned. But she was also terrified. And she held the key to everything.

“I will speak to the authorities,” I said. “I will tell them you cooperated fully. That you were manipulated and threatened. I cannot promise outcomes. But I will do what is fair.”

Rachel took a deep breath.

“Halloway has someone inside the coroner’s office,” she said. “Someone who falsified the death certificate. But there’s someone else—closer. Someone who works inside your house.”

The air left my lungs.

“Who?” I asked again.

Rachel looked toward the glass window where Thomas stood watching. Her eyes widened slightly. Then she looked back at me, terrified.

“I can’t say it here,” she whispered. “He’s listening. Halloway has people everywhere. Meet me tonight—somewhere private. I’ll tell you everything then.”

“Where?”

“The old boathouse on the north edge of the property. Midnight. Come alone.”

“Rachel—”

“Please!” She reached across the table, gripping my hand. “If you don’t come, I’ll tell him you refused. And then he’ll know you’re onto him. It’s the only way.”