Chapter 2

A document appeared on the livestream a moment later.

The title read: Analysis Report on Alice's Psychological Profile and Assessment of Runaway Risk.

I skimmed it. Just as I suspected — something I'd never seen before.

The report had been issued by a well-known psychiatric institute. Dozens of pages, dense and official-looking.

It described Alice as a child with severe Oppositional Defiant Disorder, and "scientifically" concluded that there was a 90% probability she had run away on her own.

I read one line, and brought the shovel down on Valencia's face.

CRACK.

The sharp edge connected hard. Valencia's scream tore through the wasteland.

Blood poured from his nose and the corner of his mouth. A few teeth came loose, dropping into the dirt mixed with red.

"Endrick!"

Angel slammed her fist on the table so hard the camera shook.

"I gave you what you asked for! What the hell do you want now?!"

I zoomed in on the report and held it up so everyone watching could read it clearly.

"You think every person watching this is an idiot?"

"Alice scored top of her class on every single test. And now you're telling me she had a psychological disorder?"

I cut the display and stared cold into the camera.

"Angel, don't insult me with garbage like this. It won't work."

Angel went another shade paler.

The comment section erupted:

[I mean, isn't the report scientifically valid? Mental health issues and academic performance aren't related. Plenty of gifted kids have behavioral disorders.]

[Detective Angel's professional record is nationally recognized! What do YOU know about psychology?]

[Let him go! Just let him go! This guy has completely lost it. He's being completely unreasonable.]

I smiled and glanced at my watch. "Sweetheart. You have four hours left."

Angel pressed both hands flat on the table, eyes locked on mine.

"That report is what the case is. What exactly do you think I'm hiding?"

"You know what." I held her gaze just as hard.

"If you actually care about Valencia as much as you say you do, stop wasting his time."

Angel's jaw tightened.

"If I really wanted to deceive you, did I need to spend five years on this myself?! I could've closed the case on any excuse I wanted!"

I tilted my chin up slightly.

"Which only tells me that what you wanted wasn't just a closed case."

The hate online was torrential. Comment after comment calling me ungrateful, saying I was throwing away a devoted and dutiful wife.

The department's negotiators started rotating through different accounts, sending me private messages, gentle and persistent, trying to talk me down.

I ignored all of it. I sat at the edge of the pit, tapping the ground with the shovel, over and over.

"Time's up." I stood.

Valencia stared up at me, eyes stretched wide with terror.

"Endrick!" A voice — elderly, sharp, commanding — cut through the feed.

I spun around. There, in front of the camera, was a woman in a dress. Older, but sharp-eyed and upright.

"Meredith?"

My mother-in-law. Angel's mother.