At home, the pressure followed him. He woke to anonymous calls that hung up when he answered. One night, his car alarm shrieked, and he found his windshield wipers bent backward, an ugly little message that said, clearly, “Stop digging for your own good.”
Instead, he dug deeper. He recorded every late-night call, logged every odd incident, and quietly copied every file related to Adam’s crash before it could vanish. He knew how evidence disappeared. He had watched it happen to other people.