Chapter 9 - The Final Nail
Within an hour of finding my father’s diary, I was sitting across from Detective Miller in his downtown precinct office, placing the leather ledger and the hidden flash drive onto his desk.
Miller flipped through the yellowed pages of my father’s diary, his eyes widening as he read the final entries.
“My God,” Miller whispered, looking up at me. “A twenty-five-year-old cold case. The autopsy on your father was signed off by a family-connected physician who retired to the Bahamas a week later. With this diary, the forensic toxicology reports from the old estate records, and the digital files we pulled from her guest house... we aren't just looking at embezzlement and assault anymore, Mr. Wentworth.”
“What are we looking at?” I asked quietly.
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“Premeditated first-degree murder,” Miller said firmly. “She’ll never see the outside of a maximum-security prison cell for the rest of her natural life.”
“Good,” I replied, standing up and buttoning my suit jacket. “Make sure the federal prosecutors have everything they need before the arraignment tomorrow morning.”
