The police car pulled up outside the West Precinct. Bailey barely had a moment to take in the building before he was marched inside and guided straight into an interrogation room.
A metal table sat in the middle of the room, two chairs facing each other. Bailey was shoved into one of them, and a pair of handcuffs snapped around his wrists, locking him to the table’s underside. He glanced up at the two officers sitting across from him, his eyes hard and guarded.
“Let’s get to it, Bailey,” one officer said, his voice steady. “Tell us about the deal you made with Nathaniel twenty years ago.”
Bailey let out a short, bitter laugh, turning his head away. “I’m not answering a single question until my lawyer gets here.”
If he could just stall, maybe his attorney would find a way to get him out of this.
The officers exchanged a look. Frustration flickered between them, but they didn’t push.
“You should really think about your options,” one of them warned, his voice heavy. “Nathaniel’s on the run. The evidence against him is solid. What makes you think you can just walk away from this?”
“If you come clean now, you might get a little mercy.”
“Mercy?” Bailey scoffed, shooting a glare their way. “I haven’t done anything illegal. I don’t need mercy.”
No matter how they pressed, Bailey kept his lips sealed. The room settled into a tense silence.
The officers didn’t seem in any hurry. They just sat there, watching him, their eyes sharp and searching. Bailey could feel their stares burning into him. He closed his eyes and tried to look calm, though every muscle in his body was wound tight.
The seconds crawled by. The only sound was the ticking clock on the wall. The longer he sat, the more anxious he became. He had no idea when his lawyer would show up, or how much the police actually knew.
Just when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, the door opened.
A familiar figure stepped inside. It was Roman—the same detective who had pulled Grace away right in front of him.
Bailey’s brows drew together in confusion. Wasn’t Roman supposed to be handling Grace’s case? What was he doing here?
Roman didn’t acknowledge Bailey’s questioning look. He walked to the table, pulled out the empty chair, and sat down. He placed a thick file on the table and looked at Bailey with a calm, almost unreadable expression.
“Mr. Meyer, long time no see.”
Bailey’s jaw tightened. “Mr. Sanchez? Why are you here?” His tone was wary.
“I thought you were dealing with Grace’s case.”
He flipped it open. Inside were audio recordings of Grace and Alex, bank transfers, witness statements. Everything pointed to Grace paying Alex to stage the accident.
Bailey’s shoulders relaxed a little. None of it linked back to him. He looked up, forced a small, dismissive smile. “This just proves Grace is guilty, not me. Are you sure you’re not confused, Mr. Sanchez?”
Roman only nodded to the file, urging him to keep reading.
A knot formed in Bailey’s chest. He turned the pages, and then stopped cold when he reached the end. His eyes widened, color draining from his face. The file fell from his hands and landed on the floor.
The last pages revealed that before she died, Marie had discovered Bailey’s secret deal with Nathaniel. She had gathered evidence and was planning to expose them. When Grace found out, she’d gone to desperate lengths to protect Bailey and the Meyer family, paying Alex to orchestrate the accident that killed Marie.
Bailey’s voice dropped to a whisper. “No… that’s not possible…” His eyes were blank, haunted.
He’d spent years believing Grace killed Marie just to get rid of her as an obstacle. Now it turned out the real reason was his own actions twenty years ago.
The shock and fear were overwhelming. Bailey felt cold all over, his hands limp, his mind reeling.
Because of what he’d done all those years ago, Marie was dead.

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