Cal Reed Offers Help

The car outside Tessa's house was not Cal's.

It was worse. It was Brooke's supervisor, Martin Kells, in a Harbor Union sedan with no official reason to be on a residential street at midnight.

Nora and Tessa watched through the blinds as he sat with both hands on the wheel, engine running, face lit by the dashboard.

"Do we call Brooke?" Tessa whispered.

"If he is dirty, yes. If he is not, also yes."

Brooke arrived six minutes later wearing jeans, no badge visible, and the expression of a woman watching a mentor become evidence. She walked straight to Kells's window and tapped once.

He did not pretend surprise.

Nora could not hear them, but she saw Kells look toward Tessa's house. Not at the windows. At the side yard, where a person could leave a package unseen.

Brooke followed his gaze and stiffened.

"Back door," Nora said.

Tessa grabbed a rolling pin because anger had turned her practical.

Behind the trash bins sat a manila envelope sealed in plastic. No name. No stamp. Nora carried it inside with dish gloves while Tessa filmed.

Inside was a copy of Miles's first death certificate, cleaner than the one in the briefcase. Attached to it was a handwritten note.

Kells kept him alive on paper. Judith killed him in public. Ask why Cal signed both.

Brooke entered without knocking. Kells stayed outside, waiting.

"He says he came to warn me," she said.

"By lurking?" Tessa asked.

"Insurance people have poor social instincts."

Nora handed over the note.

Brooke read it once. Her jaw moved as if she were grinding down the urge to defend him.

"Kells says Miles was an unauthorized asset," she said. "He kept access open because Miles was collecting proof the company buried after the first payout."

"And Cal?" Nora asked.

Brooke looked back toward the sedan.

"Cal Reed notarized the first death packet and the second policy trust."