The screen flickered, and the video of the dark hallway appeared.

The courtroom was completely silent as the figure of Ethan Lawson came into view on the screen.

He was holding the metal tool, striking the lock.

Ethan’s face went completely white.

Margaret turned slowly to look at her son, her mouth dropping open.

The judge stared at the screen, her brow furrowing.

“Mr. Lawson,” the judge said, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

At that exact moment, the heavy wooden doors at the back of the courtroom swung open.

Two police officers stepped inside, their eyes scanning the room.

They walked straight toward our table.

But they weren’t looking at Ethan.

They were looking at me.

My heart hammered against my ribs as the officers stopped directly in front of our table.

The taller officer, a man with a graying mustache and a heavy brass badge, looked down at me.

“Claire Bennett?” he asked, his voice echoing in the quiet room.

“Yes,” I whispered, my hands gripping the edge of the wooden table.

He reached into his leather bag and pulled out a thick, yellow envelope sealed with red evidence tape.