“No.”
“Who did?”
“His brother’s secretary signed for it.”
I felt nauseated.
“What happened to it?”
“Richard found it twenty-nine years later inside Malcolm’s private archive.”
The room blurred.
My mother had known.
She had been afraid.
Thomas handed me another document.
A forensic report commissioned by Richard.
“The original investigation concluded your father lost control on a wet road.”
“I know.”
“The photographs show the brake line had been cut.”
I stared at the paper.
“No.”
“The original mechanic noticed it.”
“Then why—”
