She wiped Emily’s arm with a small swab.

Emily stirred, her head moving slightly on the pillow, but she did not wake.

Margaret slid the needle into her vein and pushed the plunger down.

She did it with a steady, practiced hand.

“Call Owen,” Margaret said, stepping back from the bed. “Tell him she had an allergic reaction to her medication. He will handle the certificate.”

I paused the video.

The screen froze on my mother’s face.

The kitchen was completely silent except for Vale’s ragged breathing.

Wade stared at the screen, his mouth slightly open.

The revolver in his hand lowered until it pointed at the floor.

He knew what this meant.

This was not a financial discrepancy that could be explained away by accountants.

It was first-degree murder, captured on high-definition video.

“My God,” Vale whispered, pulling himself up against the kitchen counter.

“This doesn’t go to the local station, Wade,” I said. “I’ve already configured this phone to upload the video to an external server. If I don’t enter a safety code in ten minutes, it goes directly to the federal prosecutor’s office.”