I could see the name *Melissa Vance* printed at the top of the first page in faded black ink.

“These are the original, unredacted police reports,” Brandon said.

“The ones the Chief of Police ordered destroyed?” I asked.

“The very same,” Brandon said. “They contain the forensic evidence of what Ethan did to her at the beach house.”

He turned another page, showing me a high-contrast photograph of a young woman’s bruised neck.

“This would put my brother away for life,” Brandon said. “No amount of Prescott money or political influence could save him from this.”

“Why are you giving this to me?” I asked, watching his face for any sign of a trap.

“I’m not giving it to you,” he said. “I’m trading it.”

“What do you want, Brandon?”

“I want the financial records you took from the estate,” he said.

“The offshore accounts,” I said.

“Yes,” Brandon said, his eyes glittering. “The ones that prove Margaret has been laundering money through the hospital foundations.”

“If I give you those, she goes to prison,” I said.

“And I take over Prescott Enterprises,” Brandon said.