Katie said they were the ones with her name.
A detective arrived less than an hour later.
Katie gave her account with Amanda beside her and then repeated it with a child advocate present.
The details stayed in the same order.
Andrew had followed her for half a block.
He had called her name.
He had smiled when she turned.
He had pushed her toward traffic.
Detective Reynolds listened carefully.
Before leaving the room, he asked whether Andrew knew Katie was awake.
Amanda said no.
Reynolds told her to keep it that way.
Two officers drove Amanda home.
The house looked ordinary enough to make what had happened feel even more unreal.
Andrew’s dark jacket was still hanging beside the front door.
Near one cuff, Amanda noticed a blue thread.
It matched Katie’s school cardigan.
That small piece of fabric did not prove the entire story, but it gave Reynolds something concrete to examine.
Then there was the movie ticket.
It was printed for the previous evening and placed on Andrew’s nightstand as though someone wanted it found.
It looked less like a forgotten ticket than an alibi waiting for an audience.
In the kitchen, half a bottle of whiskey stood beside one spotless glass.
Nothing about the scene explained why Andrew had supposedly been elsewhere when Katie was hit.
Then Reynolds examined Andrew’s phone.
He asked Amanda whether she knew the password.
She did.
It was their wedding date.
The password opened the phone.
The last conversation was with an unsaved number.
The messages were short.
Everything is ready.
The girl needs to disappear.
Tomorrow?
It’s done.
Amanda felt her knees weaken.
She stayed upright because Katie was still in the hospital, and because the officers were now looking at the same words she was.
There was no need for Amanda to explain why the messages frightened her.
Reynolds photographed them.
The question was no longer simply whether Andrew had followed Katie.
The question was why someone had been discussing making a girl disappear.
Amanda went to Andrew’s desk looking for Katie’s insurance card.
The bottom drawer was locked.
One of the officers checked beneath the desk and found a small key taped underneath.
He peeled it loose and handed it to Reynolds.
That was where the gray folder entered the story.
Reynolds opened the drawer and found a thick stack of papers.
The first page was an insurance policy on Katie for $250,000.
Andrew was the sole beneficiary.
Amanda had to look at the number twice.
Her daughter was ten years old.
She had just been struck by a car.
And her husband stood to receive a quarter of a million dollars if she died.
Behind the policy was a power of attorney that appeared to carry Amanda’s signature.
It gave Andrew authority to sell their house.
Amanda had never signed it.
That meant the threat Barbara had made about Amanda losing access to the house was suddenly much less random than it had sounded over the phone.
The house itself had become part of the plan.
Then Reynolds found the condo listings.
They were luxury condos in Miami.
Across the top listing, Andrew had written a short note in red ink.
After the problem is handled.
The phrase made the earlier messages on his phone feel different.
Before the folder was opened, the messages could still have been interpreted in several ways.
After the insurance policy, the forged signature, and the condo listings appeared together, that uncertainty became harder to maintain.
The pieces were beginning to point in the same direction.
Then someone slammed a car door outside.
Andrew was home.
