Page 95 of Deadly Secrets

“Sorry for disturbing you, Miss Moore,” a nurse said. “But the police insist that they need to talk to you.”

“No problem. Tell them to come in.” I tugged the bed sheets a little higher, ensuring they now covered my chest, as I quickly realized that I was wearing a very thin gown, and my nipples now peaked through the fabric after that kiss.

A moment later, two men dressed in dark suits entered the room.

“Miss Moore, please accept our apologies for disturbing you,” said the taller law enforcement officer. He presented his badge before offering a handshake. “I’m Detective Cortes, and this is Agent Miller from the FBI.”

“FBI?” I asked.

“Yes. Detective Cortes believes there could be a link between the threats you’ve been receiving back at Stanford University and your attempted murder. Officer Johnson, who is leading your case and a good friend, called me.”

“Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?” Detective Cortes pressed.

I glanced at Ander. I told William I would only talk to the cops with a lawyer present, but I didn’t see the issue. At the end of the day, I was the victim.

“Sure.”

Detective Cortes retrieved a notepad and a pen from the inside pocket of his jacket.

“Miss Moore, how many threatening notes have you received so far?”

“Five, if you consider the one they left at Scott Manor,” I answered.

“When did you start receiving those threatening notes?”

“Hmm. It was a few days after my friend Noah’s birthday. That would be around the third week of October.”

The detective noted the date down.

“Do you even have anything new to ask? Your buddy over there should have all the info on those first four notes,” Ander sneered, his patience wearing thin.

“Watch your tone, boy.” The detective turned to me again. “Are you aware of any threats ever made against your family? Did your parents ever tell you if they also received any notes?”

“What does this have to do with my parents?”

“Please answer the question, Miss Moore,” Agent Miller insisted.

“No. If they did, they never told me. Why are you asking me this? Did someone threaten my parents?”

“Could you grant us a moment, young man?” Detective Cortes asked as he approached my bedside. His body language underwent a noticeable change, and his jaw clenched visibly.

“If you have anything to say to me, you can say it in front of him,” I stated.

Ander folded his arms and thrust out his chest. The detective appeared uneasy and briefly glanced at the FBI agent before giving a hesitant nod.

“Very well,” he replied, pausing to return his notepad to the inner pocket of his jacket. “Yesterday, when I spoke with Agent Miller, he brought up a call from the National Transportation Safety Board that his colleague Officer Johnson had received two days ago. The NTSB gathers on-site data to establish the likely cause of each civil aviation accident in the US, but I assume you were already informed about the ongoing investigation into your parents’ accident. Given that your sedation was being discontinued today, I thought it best to hear it from us before the final report was ready for public release next week.”

Time seemed to slow down, stretching the seconds into agonizing minutes as I braced myself for the impact.

“What does the report say?” I asked.

Ander draped his arm around my shoulders in a protective gesture. This time, Agent Miller spoke.

“Miss Moore, the NTSB has determined that the mechanical system’s software was hacked. Your parents’ deaths were not the result of an accident.”

I brought my hands to my mouth and gasped.

“Your parents were murdered, and we have now classified the case as a homicide.”

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