By morning, Edward was stable in a Clarksville hospital, and the lab called before noon. “Sergeant Navarro, that bottle holds nothing but water and saline,” the technician said. “The morphine was removed entirely.” I closed my eyes. Edward had suffered for weeks while Marlene collected his prescriptions. Then his attorney, Mr. Caldwell, walked in carrying a leather folder, his face grim.

He lowered his voice. “Rachel, the pharmacy sent footage. You need to see this before the ship docks Sunday.” He pressed play on his tablet. A grainy video showed Marlene at a pharmacy counter, and a man in a gray jacket slid an envelope across to her. Edward stared at the screen and whispered, “That is Trevor’s brother.” My hands went cold as the man turned toward the camera, and I saw his badge.