If this were just any other case, it would’ve been wrapped up by now. But this wasn’t any other case—this was Kelly.
With her, nothing was ever simple.
The Newton family had more money than sense. They’d flown in top lawyers from all over, all of them fighting tooth and nail to clear Kelly’s name.
There was no solid evidence that actually proved Kelly killed anyone. The only thing the lab had was a knife, and even that was shaky.
Witnesses? There were only two people in that room, and one was already dead.
Even the angry words Kelly blurted out at the station got swept under the rug, smoothed over by a doctor’s note about her “temporary mental distress.”
Brandon slumped in his chair. His boss walked by, gave his shoulder a friendly pat. “Don’t get too worked up about this.”
He didn’t say what “this” meant, but Brandon caught the drift.
Why bother? The victim was gone. His family had already grieved, thinking he was dead years ago. Nobody was stirring up trouble now.
The Newton family’s hush money kept the press quiet and the rumors from spreading.
Patricia...
Brandon’s mind landed on her and just stuck there.
After a while, he stubbed out his cigarette and nodded. “Got it.”
“You look exhausted. Go home and get some rest,” his boss said.
“Thanks.” Brandon didn’t argue—he just grabbed his stuff and headed out.
He knew once he was gone, the case would be passed to someone else. Kelly would probably get slapped with some minor charge and then walk free.
In the end, justice was just for show. Who could say what really happened?
Brandon pulled his old Nissan out of the station’s lot and turned down a quiet side street.


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