I met Rachel at a small diner three blocks from my office.

The air inside smelled of burnt toast and old grease.

She was already sitting in a booth near the back, a thick manila envelope resting next to her coffee cup.

“Did you get them?” I asked, sliding onto the cold vinyl seat.

Rachel nodded, her expression unusually grim.

“My friend at the front desk came through,” she said, sliding the envelope across the table.

“These are the lobby logs and the security feed stills from the Grand Plaza Hotel.”

I opened the clasp and pulled out the contents.

The first page was a printed guest log from their internal database.

Scott’s name was clearly listed, checked in under his corporate discount code.

The date was October fourteenth.

My grandmother-in-law, Clara, had not passed away until late January.

“Look at the photos,” Rachel whispered, leaning closer.

I shuffled the papers to reveal the printed security camera stills.

The quality was sharp and undeniable.

There was Scott, his arm wrapped tightly around Kayla’s waist.

She was laughing, her head tilted back, showing off a new gold necklace.