A tiny strip of adhesive was found beneath the grip.

The adhesive matched evidence labels used inside the department’s property room.

Somebody had removed the official label incompletely.

Harlan stared at the photograph.

His lawyer asked for a break.

That was the moment Captain Shaw knew.

Not because Harlan confessed.

He did not.

But because, for the first time in the interview, he stopped looking angry.

He looked afraid.

Chapter Five: Terrence Blake

Terrence Blake had spent ninety-three days in county jail.

He was twenty-six years old and worked nights at a distribution warehouse.

Before Harlan stopped his car, his worst conviction had been driving with a suspended license.

Now he faced a felony gun charge.

Marcus visited the jail after prosecutors agreed to reopen the case.

Blake entered the interview room wearing an orange uniform.

He looked younger than Marcus expected.

He sat down and immediately said:

“I already told everybody that gun wasn’t mine.”

Marcus nodded.

“I know.”

Blake laughed bitterly.

“No, you don’t. You read it somewhere. That’s different.”

“You’re right.”

Blake stared at him.

“So why are you here?”

“Because the gun may have come from police evidence.”

Blake stopped smiling.

Marcus explained only what he legally could.

Blake listened.

Then he leaned back.

For several seconds, he said nothing.

Finally:

“He planted it?”

“We’re investigating.”

“He planted it.”

“I can’t tell you that yet.”

Blake hit the table with his palm.

“Ninety-three days.”

Marcus remained quiet.

“You know what happened to my job?”

Marcus shook his head.

“Gone.”

Blake pointed toward himself.

“My landlord threw my stuff out. My girlfriend moved back with her mother. My little girl thinks I’m in here because I’m dangerous.”

His voice cracked.

“And you’re telling me maybe that man put the gun there?”

Marcus had interviewed killers who showed less anger.

But Blake’s anger was not frightening.

It was devastating.

Because every word made sense.

Marcus leaned forward.

“I’m going to tell you something I shouldn’t.”

Blake looked at him.

“Last Sunday, Harlan stopped me.”

“So?”

“I was running.”

Blake frowned.

“He didn’t know I was police.”

That changed his expression.

Marcus continued.

“He put his hands on me. Then I showed him my badge.”

Blake stared at Marcus for several seconds.

Then he laughed.

Not from humor.

From disbelief.

“Bet he changed real quick.”

Marcus nodded.

“Real quick.”

Blake’s laughter disappeared.

“See?”

Marcus waited.

“That’s the whole thing right there.”

“What is?”

“He only cares who you are after he finds out you matter.”

Marcus remembered exactly what he had told Harlan.

It was wrong when you thought I belonged to nobody.

Blake leaned forward.

“When he stopped me, I told him I had a daughter. I told him I had work in six hours. I told him that gun wasn’t mine.”