IMOGEN'S POV
I'd been pacing the living room for three hours when Isaac's car finally pulled into the driveway. Three hours of checking my phone, making coffee I didn't drink, and trying not to let my imagination run wild with what Deborah Sutton might have told him.
The front door opened and closed with a soft click. Isaac appeared in the doorway, his face carrying the weight of someone who'd just had his world shifted off its axis. Again.
"Hey," I said, stopping mid-pace.
"Hey." He pulled something out of his jacket pocket. A photograph. "You might want to sit down for this."
I didn't sit. I moved closer to him instead, studying his expression. The careful way he was holding that piece of paper told me everything I needed to know before I even saw it.
"She had evidence," he said simply.
"Show me."
