SHADOWS ON THE LEATHER SEATS: THE TRUTH WE LEFT BEHIND IN THE BLACK SUV

The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital waiting room buzzed overhead, casting long, jittery shadows across the cheap vinyl chairs. Detective Vance closed the manila folder with a soft thud that sounded entirely too loud in the quiet alcove.

"You're telling me you just happened to forget your daughter was in the back seat while you were arguing on the phone?" Vance asked, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees.

"It was an accident," Adrian growled, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white again. "If you know anything about what happened, just tell me how my little girl is doing instead of interrogating me like a common criminal."

"Your daughter is stable, Mr. Miller. She's going to make a full physical recovery," Vance replied, his tone remaining infuriatingly calm. "However, Child Protective Services has already been notified. That's standard protocol for vehicular heat exhaustion cases."

"Where is Clara?" Adrian asked, looking around the empty hallway.

"She's inside with Lily," Vance said, narrowing his eyes. "Which gives us a few uninterrupted minutes to discuss your financial records."

Adrian bristled, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as the hidden recorder burned against his hip.

"My finances are none of your business," Adrian snapped.

"Normally, I'd agree," Vance said, pulling a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and sliding it across the laminate table. "Except the twenty thousand dollars deposited into your personal checking account this morning didn't come from a bank. It came from an offshore account tied to a freight company linked to your old boss."

Adrian stared at the paper in stunned silence. He hadn't worked at the shipping yard in over two years, ever since the messy dispute that left him with a criminal record and a bitter grudge against his former employer.

"I don't take money from them," Adrian whispered, the blood draining from his face.

"Someone used your social security number to open the account," Vance murmured, standing up slowly. "And right now, that makes you the prime suspect in a corporate espionage investigation."