The hospital changed within twenty minutes.
To Katie, almost nothing looked different.
The same monitors remained beside her bed.
The same nurses checked medication.
The same sunlight crossed the floor.
But outside the room, a uniformed officer took position beside the door, and Detective Reynolds began treating every familiar face as a possible source of danger.
Amanda noticed the change most in herself.
Before the threatening message, she had still divided her fear into pieces.
Andrew.
Barbara.
The insurance.
The accident.
Now those pieces had become one thing.
Someone knew Katie had survived.
Someone knew police were investigating.
Someone wanted them frightened enough to stop.
Amanda stood at the window with her phone sealed in a clear evidence sleeve.
“How did they get my number?”
Reynolds looked up from his own phone.
“Your number isn’t difficult to find if they know you.”
“You mean this could be anyone.”
“Potentially.”
“Someone involved.”
“Almost certainly.”
Amanda turned.
“Why?”
“Because of the wording.”
Finish what started yesterday.
Reynolds did not need to explain further.
Amanda had read it enough times.
“Can you trace the number?”
“It’s prepaid.”
“So no.”
“Not immediately.”
“Location?”
“We’re working on tower data.”
Amanda glanced toward Katie.
Her daughter was asleep again.
“Could Barbara have bought a burner phone?”
“Yes.”
“Could Andrew?”
“Yes.”
“Could someone else be involved?”
“Yes.”
That answer bothered Amanda most.
“Who?”
Reynolds closed his notebook.
“That’s what we need to establish.”
A technician arrived from the digital forensics unit carrying a tablet.
She introduced herself as Lena Ortiz.
“We got preliminary location information from the phone that sent the message.”
Amanda stepped closer.
“Where?”
Ortiz enlarged a map.
“The device connected to a tower covering about a two-mile area.”
“Which area?”
Reynolds leaned over the screen.
His expression sharpened.
Amanda read the street labels.
She knew the neighborhood.
“Barbara’s attorney’s office is there.”
“Yes,” Reynolds said.
Amanda felt vindication.
“It was her.”
“Not necessarily.”
Ortiz tapped the map.
“The same tower also covers a strip mall, two apartment buildings, a church, a gas station, and part of the hospital access road.”
Amanda stared.
“The hospital?”
“Edge of the sector.”
Someone could have sent the message nearby.
Possibly close enough to watch them.
Amanda looked instinctively toward the corridor.
Reynolds followed her gaze.
“Security is checking cameras.”
Her phone was no longer in her possession, so when another officer approached carrying a printout, Reynolds took it.
“We pulled the Camry’s navigation history.”
Amanda moved closer.
Barbara used the built-in navigation system constantly.
She complained she could get lost three streets from home.
The printout showed time-stamped locations from the previous day.
4:58 p.m.
Barbara’s house.
5:10 p.m.
Maple Avenue.
5:17 p.m.
A side street two blocks from Katie’s route.
5:21 p.m.
The intersection.
Amanda’s chest tightened.
There it was.
Not approximation.
Not a similar vehicle.
Barbara’s car.
At the intersection at the exact time Katie was hit.
Reynolds traced the locations downward.
5:23.
A road heading north.
5:29.
A gas station.
5:31.
Still at the gas station.
5:46.
Back near Barbara’s house.
Amanda pointed.
“She went home.”
“Looks that way.”
“Then when was the car moved to the storage facility?”
The officer handed Reynolds another sheet.
“This morning.”
Reynolds read it.
“6:14 a.m.”
Amanda stared.
“Barbara called me around six last night demanding I come home. She acted like everything was normal.”
Reynolds looked down the list.
“She may have returned the car to her residence last night.”
“Then someone moved it this morning.”
“Correct.”
“Andrew?”
“We’re checking.”
Amanda remembered Andrew arriving at the house in the black SUV.
“What time did he leave Barbara today?”
“He told you they were together.”
“Yes.”
“We have traffic footage placing that SUV near the storage facility at 6:22 a.m.”
Amanda closed her eyes.
“So Andrew moved the Camry.”
“It appears likely.”
“And Barbara drove it yesterday.”
“That also appears likely.”
Amanda looked through the glass at Katie.
The plan was taking shape with horrifying simplicity.
Andrew followed Katie on foot.
Barbara approached in the car.
Andrew pushed Katie.
Barbara hit her.
Then fled.
Amanda whispered, “They planned to make it look like a hit-and-run.”
Reynolds said nothing.
She looked at him.
“That’s what happened.”
“We still need to prove who was driving and who was physically at the scene.”
“Katie saw Andrew.”
“Yes.”
“The navigation puts Barbara’s car there.”
“Yes.”
“What more do you need?”
“A case that survives court.”
Amanda turned away.
Reynolds’s phone buzzed.
He answered and listened.
His face changed.
“Send it.”
Within seconds, a video appeared on his screen.
Amanda stepped closer.
“What is that?”
“Security camera from the gas station.”
The footage showed a silver Camry pulling beside a pump at 5:29 p.m.
The image was grainy but clear enough to identify the vehicle.
A woman stepped out.
Blond hair.
Light-colored blouse.
Dark trousers.
Amanda gripped Reynolds’s arm.
“That’s Barbara.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
Barbara stood beside the Camry and looked at the passenger-side front corner.
The headlight area was damaged.
She touched it.
Then looked around.
Amanda’s throat tightened.
The video continued.
Barbara opened the trunk.
Removed a cloth.
Wiped the hood.
Amanda could not breathe.
There was no confusion anymore.
No alternate explanation in which Barbara had accidentally struck someone and panicked without knowing who.
She was cleaning the car minutes after hitting Katie.
Then another vehicle entered the frame.
A dark pickup.
A man emerged.
Amanda did not recognize him.
He walked directly to Barbara.
They spoke.
He inspected the damaged headlight.
Then Barbara handed him something.
Money, perhaps.
The man put it in his pocket.
Amanda stared.
“Who is that?”
Reynolds paused the footage.
“I don’t know yet.”
The threatening text suddenly felt heavier.
A third person.
Someone Barbara had met immediately after the collision.
Reynolds sent the image for identification.
The video resumed.
The man opened the passenger door of his truck.
He removed a small black case.
Then he crouched beside Barbara’s front bumper.
“What is he doing?” Amanda asked.
Reynolds leaned closer.
The man appeared to manipulate something near the damaged headlight.
After several minutes he stood.
Barbara hugged him.
Not politely.
Familiarly.
Then he drove away.
Amanda stared.
“She knows him.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“We’ll identify him.”
Amanda watched Barbara return to the Camry.
At 5:36, she drove away.
Seven minutes after striking Katie.
Amanda felt sick.
“She never called an ambulance.”
“No.”
“She never went back.”
“No.”
“She knew Katie was there.”
Reynolds did not answer.
Amanda turned toward him.
“You still won’t say it?”
“I’ll say the evidence is becoming strong.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“No.”
Amanda laughed bitterly.
“You really do hate conclusions.”
“I hate bad ones.”
Amanda looked at the paused image of Barbara.
“What could still make this a bad conclusion?”
Reynolds pointed toward the man.
“Him.”
Amanda frowned.
“What about him?”
“We don’t know his role.”
“He fixed the car.”
“Maybe.”
“He helped her hide evidence.”
“Likely.”
“He could have sent the message.”
“Exactly.”
Amanda stopped.
The man might know enough to threaten her.
He had seen the damaged car.
Barbara may have told him what happened.
Or he might have been part of the plan from the beginning.
Reynolds’s phone rang again.
The investigator on the other end spoke long enough that Reynolds walked into the corridor.
When he returned, his expression was grim.
“We have an identification.”
“Who?”
“Thomas Keller.”
Amanda searched her memory.
Nothing.
“I don’t know him.”
“Barbara does.”
“How?”
“He owns Keller Auto Body.”
Still nothing.
Then Reynolds continued.
“He also has a prior fraud conviction.”
Amanda looked at him.
“What kind?”
“Insurance.”
The word landed heavily.
“What did he do?”
“Staged vehicle accidents. Submitted fraudulent claims. Served eighteen months.”
Amanda stared at the image.
Barbara had called a man with a history of insurance fraud minutes after hitting Katie.
Or perhaps she had contacted him before.
“Was he on Andrew’s phone records?”
“We’re checking.”
“What about Barbara’s?”
“Warrant process is moving.”
Amanda sat down.
“There’s more.”
Reynolds waited.
“The note said transfer after payout.”
“Yes.”
“What if Barbara wasn’t the only one getting money?”
Reynolds looked toward the screen.
“Keller.”
“Maybe.”
The entire thing might be broader than one policy.
Amanda thought of Andrew’s unknown bank account.
The monthly premiums.
The secret paperwork.
“Could they have done this before?”
Reynolds’s eyes narrowed.
“What makes you ask?”
“He had claim checklists printed before Katie saw the folder. He knew the procedure. Maybe that’s normal research. Maybe it isn’t.”
“It’s worth examining.”
Amanda thought about Andrew’s past.
He had always told her his first marriage ended because his wife left unexpectedly.
He rarely spoke about her.
Amanda knew almost nothing beyond the name.
Melissa.
No children.
Marriage lasted three years.
“What about Andrew’s first wife?”
Reynolds looked at her.
“What about her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why are you thinking of her?”
“Because Andrew never talks about what happened.”
“Divorce?”
“That’s what he said.”
“Do you know her full name?”
“Melissa Grant. Or Reynolds when they were married.”
Reynolds wrote it down.
“Anything unusual?”
Amanda searched her memory.
“She moved away afterward.”
“Where?”
“I thought Florida.”
“You thought?”
“Andrew told me.”
“You never met her?”
“No.”
Reynolds sent the name to another investigator.
Amanda felt ridiculous.
This was spiraling.
One policy did not mean every piece of Andrew’s past concealed a crime.
Then Reynolds’s phone chimed.
He read a message.
His face went still.
“What?”
He looked up.
“Melissa Grant didn’t move to Florida.”
Amanda felt cold.
“What happened?”
“She died.”
Amanda stared.
“When?”
“Seven years ago.”
That was one year before Amanda married Andrew.
“How?”
Reynolds read further.
“Single-vehicle crash.”
Amanda’s mouth went dry.
“Insurance?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Another message arrived.
Reynolds read it.
His expression tightened.
“What?”
“Andrew was beneficiary on a life insurance policy.”
Amanda stopped moving.
“How much?”
“Three hundred thousand dollars.”
The room seemed to contract around her.
“Did police investigate?”
“It was ruled accidental.”
Amanda whispered, “Was Barbara involved?”
“We don’t know.”
“What kind of crash?”
“Vehicle left the road on a rural highway.”
“Was Andrew there?”
“According to the old report, no.”
“Did he have an alibi?”
Reynolds looked at her.
“He said he was at a movie.”
Amanda stared.
The same lie.
Not just similar.
The same alibi.
Before either of them could speak, Katie stirred in the hospital room.
Amanda went to her.
Her daughter opened her eyes.
“Mom?”
“I’m here.”
Katie looked frightened.
“I remembered something.”
Amanda sat.
“What?”
Katie swallowed.
“The man at the gas station.”
Amanda’s heart stopped.
“What man?”
Katie frowned.
“He was at our house before.”
Reynolds stepped closer.
“Thomas Keller?”
Katie did not know the name.
Amanda showed her the paused security image.
Katie stared at it.
Then nodded.
“That’s him.”
“When was he at the house?” Reynolds asked.
Katie thought.
“Last week.”
Amanda felt a chill move down her back.
“What was he doing?”
“In the garage with Andrew.”
Amanda looked at Reynolds.
“What were they talking about?”
Katie closed her eyes.
“I only heard one thing.”
“What?”
“They were talking about brakes.”
Click Here to continue read next: PART8: A Hidden Recording From Andrew’s Garage Finally Revealed the Plan, but One Voice on It Changed Everything Amanda Believed
Amanda Refused to Leave Her Daughter’s Hospital Bed, Never Guessing Why Her Family Needed Her Home Before Morning
Part 7 of 12
