Maya's POV
"Vanessa was at the crime scene," I whisper, staring at the photo on Ethan's laptop.
"Before the police arrived." Ethan zooms in on the image. "This proves she took the second gun."
Hope stirs against my chest. Makes a small sound. I rock her gently while my mind races.
"We need to show this to the police," I say urgently. "Right now."
"It's not enough." Ethan closes the laptop. "This photo only shows a gun existed. It doesn't prove Vanessa took it or that Derek was telling the truth about self-defense."
"But it's something!"
"It's something," Ethan agrees. "But we need more. Hard evidence that changes everything."
He makes a call. "Get me the crime scene photos. All of them. I don't care if you have to wake up the police chief. I need them in the next hour."
While we wait, I feed Hope. She's so small. Her mouth barely fits around the bottle. But she drinks. Fights. Survives.
Just like her mother.
Thirty minutes later, Ethan's phone buzzes. "They're here."
