I didn’t reach for it. “Tell me what’s inside.”

“The original police reports from the night Melissa died,” he said.

“The ones that were never filed,” he added.

I stared at the envelope.

The paper was slightly creased, the corners worn.

“They contain the statements from the responding officers,” Brandon said. “Before my mother’s lawyers got to them.”

“They clearly state that Ethan was covered in her blood when they arrived,” he said.

A chill ran down my spine, cold as ice.

“He killed her,” I whispered.

“Of course he did,” Brandon said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. “He’s a monster. We all know it.”

“And you let him walk free,” I said, anger rising hot in my chest.

“My mother did,” Brandon said. “I was in New York. By the time I got back, the narrative was set.”

He stepped closer, offering the envelope again.

“Take it,” he said. “Read it.”

I slowly reached out and took the envelope with my left hand, keeping my right hand free.

The paper was heavy.

I tucked it under my arm, next to the diary.