My jealous older sister pretended to trip at our family lunch and spilled a whole pot of boiling tea all down my front, then while everyone was distracted she drove her heavy boot hard straight into my 7-month pregnant stomach.

The investigator found Daniel Kim, Megan's ex-boyfriend, in Tucson.

He was working as a mechanic.

Married.

Two kids.

Nathan flew down to see him.

I wanted to go, but the doctor insisted I rest.

So I waited at home, checking my phone every five minutes.

Nathan called that evening.

"He talked," he said.

I held my breath.

"Tell me."

"Your sister didn't just stab him once, Emily. She attacked him with a knife because he told her he was breaking up with her. She chased him around the apartment. He got cut on the arm trying to defend himself. The police came. She told them he had attacked her and she was defending herself."

"What happened?"

"Your father showed up. Paid off the detective handling the case, according to Daniel. Then he offered Daniel fifty thousand dollars to sign a statement saying he had made the whole thing up. To move away and never mention it again."

"Did he take it?"

"He did. He was twenty-two. Scared. Your father told him that if he didn't take the money and leave, they would destroy him. That they would tell everyone he was a violent abuser. That he would never work again. He took the money and ran."

Nathan paused.

"He's felt guilty about it ever since, Emily. He said he always knew she was dangerous. He just didn't have the courage to stand up to her and your parents. He's willing to testify. He'll give a sworn statement. He'll say anything we need him to say."

I closed my eyes.

Another piece of the puzzle.

Another example of Megan's violence.

Another example of my parents' corruption.

"Good," I said. "Get his statement in writing. Have it notarized. And tell him we'll protect him. My parents can't hurt him anymore."

"I already did. He's on board."

Nathan came home the next day.

He brought Daniel's sworn statement with him.

It was devastating.

Graphic.

Detailed.

Horrible.

We added it to our growing file of evidence.

The witness from the car accident was harder to find.

His name was Robert Henderson.

He had been a truck driver who had seen the accident from the road behind us.

He had given a statement to the police at the scene.

But then he had disappeared.

Our investigator finally tracked him down in a small town in southern Colorado.

He was retired now.

Living on a small pension.

I went to see him myself.

Nathan drove.

The drive took four hours.

Robert Henderson lived in a small, neat house at the end of a dirt road.

He was in his late sixties now.

White hair.

Calloused hands.

Kind eyes.

He invited us in.

Made us coffee.

Then he told us what he had seen.

"I was behind you," he said. "Saw the whole thing. You were driving fine. Careful, even. Then suddenly your car swerved hard to the left. Right into the guardrail. But before you swerved, I saw something through the back window. The girl in the passenger seat. She reached over and grabbed the wheel."

He leaned forward.

"I told the police that. Told them exactly what I saw. But then a man showed up. Your father, I guess. He pulled me aside. Offered me money. Said I was mistaken. That I had seen things wrong. That if I told anyone what I thought I saw, he would make sure I regretted it."

He looked down at his hands.

"I was stupid. Scared. I took the money. Ten thousand dollars. I've regretted it every day since. When I read about what happened to you in the paper... I felt sick. I should have spoken up then. Maybe if I had, none of this would have happened now."

I reached across the table and touched his hand.

"It's not your fault," I said. "My parents are very good at making people scared."

He looked at me.

"I want to help. Whatever you need. I'll testify. I'll tell the world what I saw. And what they paid me to keep quiet about."

We got his statement too.

Another piece.

Another confirmation.

Megan was a violent sociopath.

My parents were corrupt enablers.

And together, they had destroyed lives.

Multiple lives.

When we got home, Marcus was waiting for us.

He had more news.

"The forensic accountants finished going through your father's business records," he said. "It's bad. Really bad. He's been defrauding his clients and the IRS for at least seven years. We're talking hundreds of thousands of dollars. Maybe more."

"Will he go to prison for it?"

"If the IRS gets involved? Almost certainly. And we're going to make sure they get involved. I've already prepared an anonymous tip with all the evidence. It goes to the IRS criminal investigation division tomorrow."

I nodded.

"Good."

"There's something else," Marcus said. "Something personal."

"What?"

"We found letters. In your mother's email. From when you were in college. She was writing to your father about you."

He handed me a printed email.

I read it.

The date was fifteen years earlier.

George,

I don't know what to do about Emily. She's so cold. So ambitious. Nothing like Megan. Megan is warm and loving. Emily only cares about herself and her stupid grades. I wish we could send her away somewhere. She makes me feel like a failure as a mother. She's just not the daughter I wanted.

Patricia

I stared at the words.

I felt Nathan's arm go around me.

But I didn't cry.

I had no tears left for Patricia Collins.

She had never been a mother to me.

She had just been the woman who gave birth to me and then spent the rest of her life resenting me for not being Megan.

I handed the email back to Marcus.

"Add it to the file."

"Emily, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I said.

And I was.