it down onto the steel table right in front of me.
Inside the bag was my state-issued driver’s license.
“The responding officers found this resting on the driver’s side floorboard,” Vance said, his voice dropping into a harsh, accusatory whisper.
“Ten minutes later, we received an anonymous 911 call from a concerned citizen who saw a woman matching your exact description sprinting away from the crash site. We ran the plates on the SUV. It’s registered to a local real estate firm. The exact same firm your sister’s fiancé owns.
