“They’re in his desk. Come on.”
Holden follows me down the hall and around the corner, into Dad’s office.
“So you and Shayne, huh?”
I ignore him, rounding my dad’s massive desk, pulling open the top right drawer. I use one hand to shine the light inside and the other to sift through the numerous sets of keys, pens, and other random shit. I finally find the one I’m looking for, pulling on the ring, but it gets caught on something. I shine my phone into the drawer once more, and that’s when I realize that one of the keys has slipped beneath something. Something that looks a whole lot like a false bottom.
I clench my jaw tight as a bad feeling hits my gut hard and fast. Somehow, I know whatever’s under there is about Danny.
“Come give me some light.”
“What is it?” He comes up behind me, shining his light over my shoulder, and I set my phone down onto the desk.
“Let’s find out.” I take one of the keys and stick it between the board and the drawer front, popping it up, then fit my fingers in between the gap to lift it.
“What the fuck,” Holden says as I pull out an orange folder. He leans in closer, shining more light to see the words on the front of it.
“This says Dad checked this out a month after Danny died.”
My pulse starts to race, needing answers, but afraid of what I’ll find. I open the folder, finding what looks like a CD case inside with a bunch of numbers, followed by a date.
“That’s the day he died.”
I nod, swallowing hard, and open the case. Suddenly, the power kicks back on, light flooding in from the hall. Holden walks over to flip the light switch, and I take the chair in front of my dad’s desk, powering his computer on. His dinosaur of a computer takes what seems like an eternity to boot, each second making my anxiety skyrocket, and I look down at the police report that was in the same folder, but damn near everything has been redacted. Black boxes litter the page, making it impossible to make sense of it.
“You ready?” I ask, pressing the eject button, making the tray slide out. I don’t know what we’re about to find out, but I know it’s going to change everything.
Instead of answering, he sticks the disc into the tray, then pushes it shut.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
“I need an ambulance to the falls!”
My heart slams against my ribs when I hear the voice come through the speaker.
“What’s the emergency?” the operator repeats.
“He’s not fucking breathing!”
My stomach drops and I clench my jaw so hard I’m surprised my teeth don’t crack under the pressure.
“Who is he?”
“Danny—uh, Daniel Ames.”
My eyes squeeze shut hearing his name.
There’s commotion in the background as he yells in response to something that I can’t make over the sound of the water. An image of Danny facedown on the shore pops into my mind, unbidden, and I ball my hands into fists, my throat getting tight.
“You said he’s not breathing?”
“Just fucking send someone.”
“An ambulance is already on the way, sir. Who am I speaking to?”
The caller doesn’t answer. The line cuts off, and the recording ends.
But we both know who it was.