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at the computer as he moved toward it. “If he’s hiding anything, it’ll probably be on here. He wouldn’t have time to delete everything.” He grabbed hold of the mouse and shook it to wake up the computer.

Tara stood up and peered over his shoulder. He opened documents, which revealed multiple folders, each labeled by news story and date. Warren scanned through them. Tara knew he was looking for the images of the fire so they could link the memory card to him.

Tara’s ears perked up as she heard footsteps above them, and Ben’s mother’s muffled cry as she spoke to someone on the phone.

“Ah-ha!” Warren suddenly burst out.

Tara looked back at the screen. She could see he had found a folder titled “Willow Street fire” and dated when the fire had occurred. He opened each image within it. The first ones looked like the exact images found on the memory card. “Looks like someone lied to us,” Warren sighed. Tara pulled up the images on her phone and compared them. They were without a doubt identical. Her heart sank. If those images were his, then so was the one of Sofia, which Tara realized now would also most likely be on his computer. Tara braced herself as Warren continued to go through each folder, searching for exactly what Tara was afraid they would find.

He opened numerous folders of car crashes, of press conferences, of court hearings, each one a different scene that Ben had been at, but nothing that looked suspicious. He opened more folders, more past scenes. Tara began to relax as she watched Warren diligently look through all the footage. She was beginning to wonder if they would find anything at all of the victims. Could the picture of Sofia have been on the hard drive? Could that be why he smashed it? As Warren neared the remaining folders, Tara raised that question to him.

“The hard drive,” she said, Warren’s gaze still focused on the computer as he opened and closed files. “It could be on there. That would explain why he broke it.”

Warren nodded but didn’t let Tara’s words break his focus. “I thought that too,” he said as he moved the mouse in his grip. “If we can’t find anything, I’d say that theory would make a lot of sense.” He went through two more folders, the last ones in his documents, but nothing, just more photos of a scene that didn’t pertain to the victims. Warren sighed. The chances were now slim that they would find something, and after he searched the rest of the computer, he spun around in the office chair. They at least had evidence that he had lied, that the photos of the fire were his. It was enough to link the memory card to him and the image of Sofia.

“Looks like Ben has some explaining to do,” Warren said as Tara wondered, was this case now over?

Chapter Twenty Four

Ben’s gaze lay steady on the floor as Tara opened the door to the interrogation room. He was sitting at a desk in the middle of the room, and as Tara and Warren grew closer, he lifted his head. He looked tired. Even though the day’s events had not been long, it had already taken an emotional and mental toll on him. His eyes were red, with dark creases underneath. It was a good thing, Tara noted. She knew that the less mental strength he had, the more likely he was to give in, to lessen his time in that chair.

Tara and Warren took a seat across from him as his eyes fell on Tara with a pleading look. It was as if he hoped for her to spare him, but it only angered her further. All she could picture was the photograph found of Sofia. And at that thought, an image of each other girl—Ashley, Reese—alone, terrified, and in pain surfaced in her mind. It made her blood boil. The image of Sofia had to be his. If not, he needed a really good explanation.

“You lied to us,” she finally spat.

Ben stiffened as he looked between Tara and Warren anxiously. “I,” he started, but then he fell silent, his chin falling to his chest as he shook his head. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me. You looked through my computer, didn’t you?”

“Believe you about what?” Tara asked. “So you admit those pictures are yours?”

He sighed, slowly nodding. “I took those house fire pictures, but I swear I deleted them. I sold that memory card.” His voice shook as he spoke. Tara realized he was still playing off that he was being framed.

“If you deleted them and sold it, then how would they be on here?”

“I…I don’t know.” He fidgeted, his face reddening more in distress. “Someone could’ve restored them,” he blurted as if his life depended on it. “It’s possible, with a good restoration software.” Tara wasn’t sure if that was true, but she still didn’t believe him. He seemed to be clawing at any excuse he could find.

Tara opened her phone, pulling up the picture of Sofia. She held it out in front of her. “Was this image restored too?” she asked bluntly. “Is this one of the images you tried to delete?” Her voice was stern and threatening, and as his eyes fell onto the image, his mouth fell open. He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head back and forth aggressively as he pushed Tara’s hand and the phone out of his view. “That’s not mine.”

“Then why was it on your memory card?” Tara asked again.

“I don’t know! I swear!” he screamed.

“Is that why you smashed that hard drive in your room? It had pictures like this on it?”

“No!” he yelled again. His face was now beet-red as panic surfaced on every inch of it. He took a deep breath to calm himself and leaned forward. He tried to steady his voice. “Listen, I know what it looks like, but I smashed that hard

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