The hallway was still echoing when Detective Marsh asked me to come to the station that morning. I assumed he only needed another statement. Instead, he brought me into a small room, placed a laptop on the table, and explained that the wiretap had captured something nobody expected. Before Celeste came upstairs, she had made one hurried phone call from the lobby.

Marsh pressed play. Celeste’s voice filled the room. “Once she’s declared unfit, nobody reopens the balcony file.” A man answered, and every muscle in my body tightened. I knew that voice. It belonged to someone who had stood beside me at Paul’s funeral and held my hand while I cried. “Don’t worry,” he told Celeste. “She’ll never learn what really happened to Paul.” Detective Marsh stopped the recording and looked directly at me. “Ma’am, do you know who that is?” I swallowed hard. I certainly did.

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