Chapter 13 - Derek’s Blood in the Basement Explained the Nine Missing Minutes

Derek’s third account was the ugliest because it was probably the closest to truth.

After Lily fell, he ran to her first.

Jason froze.

For several seconds, neither man moved correctly.

Derek knelt beside Lily.

She was breathing.

There was blood near her mouth.

He reached under her neck, then pulled his hand back when he saw more blood on his fingers.

That explained Lily’s blood.

Not his.

His came later.

“What happened?” Nolan asked.

Derek stared at the table.

“Jason said we needed the drive.”

A woman and unborn child lay at the bottom of the stairs.

Jason thought about evidence.

Derek followed him.

That was the part I could never make ordinary.

Jason went to the basement.

Derek remained with Lily for perhaps a minute.

Then Jason shouted for him.

Derek went downstairs.

Jason had found two storage boxes of Northpoint records.

He ordered Derek to load them into his truck.

“Why did you obey?”

“I panicked.”

Nolan’s voice sharpened.

“You keep using panic as if it moved your arms for you.”

Derek flinched.

Good.

He carried one box outside.

On the second trip, a broken metal shelf cut his palm.

His blood landed beneath the shelf alongside blood transferred from Lily on his hand.

Mixed sample.

He loaded the second box.

Then returned upstairs.

Jason had the flash drive.

He gave it to Derek and told him to go.

“What about Lily?”

“I asked if we should call.”

“What did Jason say?”

Derek began crying.

“He said, ‘I am calling. Get out before you make this worse.’”

Derek left.

Jason called 911 shortly afterward.

The delay was not nine minutes of standing over Lily.

It was nine minutes of evidence removal.

That mattered legally.

It mattered morally more.

Nolan asked where the two boxes went.

Derek said he stored them in a warehouse rented by Crestline.

Police searched it.

They recovered records Northpoint believed destroyed.

Some were duplicates.

Others were not.

One contained a handwritten reconciliation prepared by Lily.

She had calculated Crestline transfers herself.

At the bottom she wrote:

Total I can prove: $2,417,800.

Ask board whether they knew.

Beneath that:

If Jason says this is about the affair, do not let him change the subject.

That sentence became my sister again.

Precise.

Angry.

Ahead of him.

The recovered records strengthened the bank negotiations and financial case.

They also created another problem for Derek.

His cooperation agreement depended on truthful disclosure.

Repeated lies threatened it.

Prosecutors did not reward him for eventually admitting what evidence forced him to admit.

That seemed fair.

Jason’s homicide case moved toward trial.

His financial charges would be tried separately or resolved later.

The judge limited what financial evidence could appear in the homicide case.

Not every bad act could be used merely to make him look bad.

The state could show enough to explain motive and the argument.

The defense could challenge it.

Law, I learned, spends extraordinary energy preventing people from being convicted because everyone dislikes them.

I came to respect that even when I disliked the person.

Rachel prepared to testify.

Her attorney warned her that defense lawyers would expose the affair in detail.

She said she understood.

I asked to meet her once.

Daniel thought I had lost my mind.

Maybe.

We sat in the same diner where she first met Lily.

Rachel ordered coffee and did not drink it.

“I need to ask you something,” I said.

She nodded.

“Did Lily forgive you?”

Rachel’s eyes filled.

“No.”

The answer relieved me.

I did not want a hidden reconciliation that forced me toward grace.

“She thanked me for showing her the invoices,” Rachel continued. “She said that was not the same as forgiving me.”

That sounded exactly like Lily.

“What did she think of you at the end?”

Rachel looked out the window.

“I think she saw me as someone who finally did one decent thing after doing something cruel.”

Fair.

“Why did you go to the funeral with Jason?”

Rachel closed her eyes.

“I was afraid.”

“Of what?”

“That he knew I had helped her.”

“Did he?”

“Not until the will.”

That explained his question in the church.

What did you do?

He had seen the blue envelope.

Recognized that Lily had moved evidence beyond him.

Then Rachel whispered to him.

What had she said?

I asked.

Rachel looked at me.

“I told him, ‘She left copies.’”

That was why he turned on her.

Not grief.

Fear.

Another moment reclassified.

Before leaving, Rachel took an envelope from her bag.

“I found this in my desk after Lily died.”

My pulse changed.

“What?”

“She mailed it to my office.”

I did not touch it.

“Why didn’t you give it to police?”

“I did. They returned a copy to me after processing.”

Inside was a card in Lily’s handwriting.

Rachel,

You do not get to call yourself my friend.

But if you keep telling the truth when it costs you, maybe one day you will become someone you can live with.

Do not let Jason convince you that helping me now erases what you did before.

Both things are true.

L.

I read it twice.

“Why show me?”

“Because I’m tired of wanting you to think I’m better than I was.”

For the first time, Rachel sounded free.

Not forgiven.

Free.

That distinction stayed with me.

Then my phone rang.

District Attorney Grant.

The grand jury had returned indictments.

Jason would face a manslaughter charge in Lily’s death, an additional charge tied to Noah’s death under applicable state law, evidence tampering, and medication-related offenses.

Trial would begin in six months.

Grant ended with a warning.

“Emily, this is not the finish line.”

I looked at Lily’s card.

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“I know.”

It was the first time I truly did.