His fingers tightened around his pen until his knuckles turned white.

“She didn’t understand how the world works,” Voss said. “She thought her name would protect her.”

“So you had her car run off the road,” Ryker said.

His voice was so quiet it was almost a whisper, yet it filled the room.

I watched Voss closely, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“A tragic accident,” Voss said, his face a mask of indifference.

“But it wasn’t an accident,” Ryker said. “We found the mechanic who serviced her SUV the morning before she died.”

This was our bluff.

We had found no such mechanic.

But Voss did not know that, and his arrogance was his biggest weakness.

Voss stared at Ryker, his eyes narrowing to tiny, venomous slits.

“The mechanic is dead, Ryker,” Voss said softly.

My breath caught in my throat.

He had just admitted there was a mechanic.

“He had a sudden heart attack three years ago,” Voss continued, a cold, mocking smile returning to his face.

“There is no one left to talk.”

“So you admit you paid him to cut the brake lines,” Ryker said.