Derek had studied my son’s grief.
He understood how badly Ethan wanted to know his father.
And he turned that longing into leverage.
Then Ethan added one final detail.
“Uncle Derek said he’d see me Monday.”
“For what?” the detective asked.
“To see if Mom said yes.”
My stomach tightened.
“Yes to what?”
Ethan lowered his eyes.
“Taking me to Dad’s storage place.”
Suddenly, everything fell into place.
All week, Ethan had repeatedly asked me to visit the storage unit.
I had assumed it was his own idea.
It wasn’t.
“Derek told you to keep asking?”
Ethan nodded.
“He said if you said no, ask again the next day.”
His lip trembled.
“I really did want to see Dad’s things though.”
“I know.”
Then he told me the final part.
Derek had told him the papers in the case belonged to Ryan.
That they had been misplaced.
That once Ethan got to the storage unit, he needed to put them back inside his father’s boxes.
The forged evidence was supposed to be planted by my own nine-year-old son.
Someday, perhaps that same day or weeks later, I would discover the papers myself.
And believe my husband had been a criminal.
