Derek couldn’t get into my storage unit, but I could.
He’d been teaching Ethan exactly how to get me there without making me suspicious.
Once inside, Ethan was supposed to unlock the case and slip the forged records into Ryan’s old boxes.
Then, when I found them myself, they would look like papers Ryan had hidden before he died.
The camera made sense too.
Derek couldn’t enter my house, so he’d been watching the front door.
He could see Ethan bring the case home, and he would know if anything happened before I agreed to take Ethan to the storage unit.
Police arranged everything from there.
Monday was when Derek expected Ethan to tell him whether I’d agreed to take him to the storage unit.
Ethan didn’t go anywhere near Derek.
An officer stayed with him inside the school while detectives waited outside.
Derek appeared shortly after dismissal.
I watched from an unmarked car as the man I hadn’t seen in three years stood across the street holding the same friendly smile he’d apparently used on my son.
