“Round the clock.

” “Based on what?” “We have no proof Marcus Ashford has done anything.

You want me to put surveillance on one of the city’s most prominent businessmen because of a theory? Marcus’ family owned half the commercial real estate in Riverside.

His father played golf with the mayor.

His mother was on the hospital board where Dianiela had done her residency.

Walsh was right.

They needed more than circumstantial evidence.

The next morning, Dianiela did something desperate.

She called Marcus and asked to meet him for coffee.

I need to talk to someone who loved Sophia as much as I loved Khloe, she said.

They met at a Starbucks downtown, public safe.

Marcus looked haggarded, his usually perfect appearance disheveled.

He’d lost weight, his expensive suit hanging loose.

I know what people are saying, he started before she could speak.

That I had something to do with it.

It’s killing me, Dianiela.

First I lose Sophia, now everyone thinks I’m a monster.

Tell me about that night, Dianiela said.

The truth.

I’ve told the truth a thousand times.

I was home.

I had a conference call with Tokyo the next morning.

I went to bed early.

Sophia was going to break up with you.

Marcus’s coffee cup stopped halfway to his mouth.

Who told you that? Does it matter? Was she? He set the cup down carefully.

We were having problems.

I was I know I was too clingy, too jealous, but I was working on it.

I was seeing a therapist.

I loved her.

Dianiela, I wanted to marry her.

Show me your phone from that night.

What? You said your phone was off in airplane mode.

Why? I told you I needed sleep for the conference call.

You never turn your phone off.

Sophia used to complain about it.

You’d check it constantly, even at dinner, even at movies.

But that one night, the night she disappears, you turn it off.

Marcus’s face darkened.

I don’t have to listen to this.

The BMW in Jenna’s Instagram story.

That was your car.

He stood up.

You’re grieving.

I understand, but this has to stop.

The hardware store receipt in Sophia’s pocket.

The concrete you bought 2 days before.

Marcus went very still.

What receipt? And there it was, a slip.

The police hadn’t released that detail.

How do you know about the receipt, Marcus? I The detective mentioned it.

No, they didn’t.

They haven’t released any evidence details to anyone.

So, how do you know? Marcus’ hands were shaking now.

You’re trying to confuse me.

Twist my words.

Meredith texted Tyler that you picked them up.

That’s impossible because you used her phone to send it like that app you showed us at Easter.

The one that could fake messages.

People were staring now.

Marcus leaned in close and for a moment, Dianiela saw something dark flash in his eyes.

You have no idea what you’re doing, he whispered.

Stop now.

Or or what? You’ll do to me what you did to them.

Marcus jerked back like he’d been slapped.

Then he turned and walked out, leaving his coffee untouched.

Dianiela’s hands were shaking as she called Reeves.

I got him to slip up about the receipt, and he threatened me in front of witnesses.

“It’s not enough,” Reeves said.

“But it’s something.

I’m going to push for a warrant to search his properties.

” The warrant was denied.

Marcus’ lawyer, a shark named David Brennan, who’d gotten half the city’s elite out of trouble, filed an injunction, claiming harassment.

“He held a press conference on the courthouse steps,” Marcus beside him, looking appropriately wounded.

“My client has been nothing but cooperative,” Brennan announced to the cluster of reporters.

“He’s the one who kept these girls’ faces in the media.

He’s the one who never gave up hope.

And now in his darkest hour of grief, he’s being persecuted by a family looking for someone to blame.

Marcus stepped to the microphones.

I loved Sophia with all my heart.

I would have done anything to protect her.

The real killer is out there laughing while you waste time investigating an innocent man.

Daniela watched from her car, rage building in her chest.

He was good.

Oscar worthy.

The grieving boyfriend destroyed by loss and false accusations.

Her phone rang.

Tyler, I found something, he said.

Can you meet me? Not in public.

My apartment.

Tyler lived in a converted loft in the arts district, the kind of place Meredith had loved.

Exposed brick, huge windows, paintings everywhere.

Most of them were hers, Daniela realized.

portraits of her friends, including one of all five of them from last summer, faces bright with life.

“After you left the coffee shop yesterday, “I remembered something,” Tyler said, pulling out an old tablet.

Meredith was paranoid about backing everything up.

She had this cloud account she thought I didn’t know about.

“I remembered the password, her cat’s name, and her birthday.

” He opened the account.

Hundreds of photos, videos, documents, and a folder labeled evidence.

Inside were screenshots of text messages between Sophia and Marcus going back months.

The progression was chilling.

At first, sweet, loving messages, then gradually more controlling.

Where are you? Who are you with? Why didn’t you answer immediately? Then from 2 weeks before the murder, Marcus, if you leave me, I’ll kill myself.

Sophia, that’s not fair.

You need help.

Marcus, I’ll kill myself and it will be your fault.

Everyone will know.

Sophia, I’m calling your therapist.

Marcus, I don’t have a therapist.

I lied.

I don’t need one.

I need you.

The last exchange was from the morning of May 18th.

Sophia, it’s over.

I’m done.

Don’t contact me again.

Marcus, we’ll see about that.

Jesus, Daniela breathed.

This is it.

This proves motive.

There’s more, Tyler said, clicking on a video file.

This is from May 17th, the night before.

The video was shaky, filmed in what looked like Sophia’s apartment.

All five girls were there sitting in a circle on the living room floor.

Sophia was crying.

“You have to file a restraining order,” Meredith’s voice said from behind the camera.

“Show them the texts.

” “He’ll ruin me,” Sophia sobbed.

“His family, they own everything.

They’ll destroy my career.

” “We won’t let that happen,” Khloe said, squeezing Sophia’s hand.

We’re your family.

We protect each other.

Ride or die, remember? Jenna added.

Laurel nodded.

We’ve got a plan.

Tomorrow at dinner, we celebrate your freedom.

Then you stay with me for a while.

He won’t know where you are.

What if he shows up at the restaurant? Sophia asked.

He won’t, Meredith said firmly.

You told him you were going to your mom’s this weekend.

He has no idea about the dinner.

The video ended.

Dianiela felt sick.

They’d tried to protect her.

All of them had tried and they’d all died for it.

We have to get this to the police, she said.

I tried, Tyler said, this morning, but something’s wrong.

Detective Walsh said it’s inadmissible.

Fruit of the poisonous tree or something.

Said I hacked the account illegally.

But you knew the password Meredith would have wanted.

Doesn’t matter.

Without her written permission, it’s illegal access.

None of this can be used in court.

Dianiela wanted to scream.

They had proof.

actual proof and it was worthless.

There has to be another way, she said.

Something admissible.

Tyler was quiet for a moment.

Then there might be.

Meredith had a safety deposit box.

She told me about it once, said it had important documents.

If she kept physical copies of anything where First National on Monroe, but I’m not on the access list.

Only family can.

Her sister Emma, Dianiela interrupted.

She lives in Boston.

I’ll call her.

Emma flew in that night.

Dianiela had met her once at a memorial service 6 months after the disappearance.

She looked like Meredith.

Same red hair, same fierce eyes.

“I always knew it was him,” Emma said as they drove to the bank the next morning.

Meredith called me a week before she died.

Said Sophia was in trouble with her boyfriend.

Said they were going to handle it.

The bank manager, an older woman with kind eyes, led them to the vault.

I remember your sister,” she told Emma.

She came in the week before she before she disappeared, added something to her box.

Emma’s hand shook as she inserted the key.

Inside the box were documents, Meredith’s passport, birth certificate, some bonds, and a Manila envelope labeled just in case.

Inside were printed emails between Marcus and a friend from college.

She’s going to leave me.

I can feel it.

So, let her go.

Find someone else.

No.

If I can’t have her, nobody can.

Dude, that’s psycho talk.

I’m serious.

I’d rather see her dead than with someone else.

The emails were dated a month before the murders.

Detective Reeves’s eyes widened as she read the emails.

They were sitting in the police station’s conference room.

Daniela, Emma, Tyler, and Reeves.

Detective Walsh was conspicuously absent.

“This is it,” Reeves said.

This is enough for a warrant.

With these emails showing premeditation, plus the receipt, the timeline discrepancies, the door burst open.

Walsh stood there, face red with anger.

What the hell are you doing, Reeves? I told you to drop the Marcus angle.

We have new evidence.

Inadmissible evidence.

Mr.

Ashford’s lawyer already called.

Those emails were obtained through illegal means.

They were in Meredith’s safety deposit box, Emma protested.

I had every right.

The emails were stolen from Mr.

Ashford’s private account.

Doesn’t matter where they ended up.

They’re fruit of the poisonous tree.

Daniela stood up.

You’re protecting him.

Walsh’s face went darker.

Watch yourself, Ms.

Castillo.

How much did they pay you? Or are you just afraid of his family? You’re emotionally compromised.

I’m removing you from any involvement in this investigation.

You can’t do that.

I’m not part of the investigation.

I’m a private citizen.

A private citizen who’s harassing a grieving man.

Leave now or I’ll have you arrested for interfering with an investigation outside the station.

Reeves caught up with him.

I’m sorry.

Walsh has connections with the Ashford family going back years, but I’m not giving up.

He’s going to get away with it, Emma said, tears streaming down her face.

He killed my sister and he’s going to walk free.

Not if I can help it, Reeves said.

But I need to be smart about this.

Go home.

let me work.

But Dianiela couldn’t go home.

Instead, she drove to the construction site.

The hole had been filled in, the foundation work continuing as if five bodies hadn’t been found there.

She parked and walked the perimeter, trying to understand.

How had Marcus gotten five women here? How had he controlled them all? Even if he had a gun, surely someone would have run, screamed, fought back.

Unless they trusted him.

Unless even until the end they thought he wouldn’t really hurt them.

Her phone rang.

Unknown number.

She almost didn’t answer then did.

Dianiela.

A woman’s voice scared whispering.

This is This is Kate.

Kate Ashford Marcus’s sister.

Dianiela’s breath caught.

Kate.

I need to talk to you, but not on the phone.

Meet me at St.

Mary’s Church on Riverside, the old cemetery behind it.

1 hour.

The cemetery was overgrown, forgotten headstones dating back to the 1800s.

Kate was waiting by a large oak tree, looking around nervously.

She was younger than Marcus, maybe 25, with the same dark hair, but none of his confidence.

I know what he did,” she said without preamble.

“I’ve always known what he was capable of.

Tell me.

” When we were kids, I had a cat.

Princess Marcus hated that I loved something more than him.

One day, Princess disappeared.

He helped me look for her, put up flyers, comforted me when I cried.

3 months later, I found her body in an old freezer in our garage.

She’d been strangled.

Danella’s stomach turned.

He didn’t know I found her.

I was too scared to say anything.

But I started watching him.

Really watching.

The way he’d manipulate our parents, playing the perfect son, the way he’d hurt people but make it look like an accident.

The girlfriends who’d suddenly transfer schools or move away.

Why are you telling me this now? Kate pulled out a flash drive.

Because I can’t live with it anymore.

The night Sophia disappeared, Marcus came to my apartment at 300 a.

m.

He was covered in dirt, concrete, dust in his hair.

He said he’d been helping a friend with construction work at 3:00 a.

m.

I knew something was wrong, but I was too scared to ask.

This still isn’t proof.

The flash drive has security footage from my building.

It shows him arriving the state he was in.

And something else.

Kate’s voice dropped.

He kept trophies from all his girlfriends hidden in our parents’ house.

There’s a room in the basement behind a false wall.

Our parents don’t even know it exists.

He showed it to me once when he was drunk.

Said it was where he kept his memories.

What kind of trophies? Jewelry, clothes, photos, and Kate swallowed hard.

Videos.

He recorded everything.

If Sophia’s things are there, if there’s video from that night, we need to tell the police.

No, Walsh will bury it.

You need someone else.

Someone not connected to this city.

Dianiela thought of her med school roommate, now an FBI agent in Chicago.

I might know someone.

That night, Dianiela couldn’t stop thinking about the five of them in Marcus’s car, probably still laughing, still thinking they were safe.

When had they realized when he didn’t drive toward Sophia’s apartment? When he pulled into that construction site or not until the very end.

Her phone buzzed.

A text from Marcus.

Kate visited you today.

Family should stick together.

She’s confused, you know, mental health issues.

Wouldn’t it be terrible if she had an accident? The threat was clear, but it was also evidence.

Daniela screenshot it and forwarded it to her FBI friend with two words, “Help, please.

” FBI special agent Rachel Morrison arrived in Riverside at dawn, accompanied by a small team.

Daniela had sent her everything, the emails, the videos, Kate’s security footage, Marcus’ threatening texts.

Federal jurisdiction was thin, but Rachel had found an angle.

Marcus’ family company had federal contracts, and there was evidence of using company resources in the commission of crimes.

“We’re going to need Kate’s testimony,” Rachel told Daniela as they sat in a federal building 30 m from Riverside, away from Walsh’s influence.

“Is she willing?” “She’s terrified.

He threatened her.

We can protect her.

Witness protection if necessary.

” Dianiela called Kate, but the phone went straight to voicemail.

She tried again.

Nothing.

A cold dread settled in her stomach.

“We need to find her,” she told Rachel.

“Now.

” They went to Kate’s apartment.

The door was a jar.

Inside, signs of a struggle.

A lamp knocked over, papers scattered, but no blood, no body.

He took her, Dianiela said.

“He’s cleaning up loose ends.

” Rachel’s team immediately put out a BO for both Kate and Marcus.

Meanwhile, she got a federal warrant for the Asheford family estate, specifically the basement Kate had described.

The estate was a sprawling tutor mansion on 10 acres, the kind of old money that owned judges and politicians.

Marcus’ parents were in Europe, conveniently traveling when the FBI arrived.

The basement was finished, looking like any wealthy family’s recreation room, pool table, bar, vintage arcade games.

But Rachel’s team had thermal imaging equipment.

They found the false wall within minutes.

Behind it was Marcus’ shrine.

The walls were covered in photos, not just of Sophia, but of dozens of women going back years.

Some Dianiela recognized as Marcus’ ex-girlfriends who had supposedly moved away.

Others were strangers.

Each photo was labeled with a date and initials.

In a cabinet were jewelry boxes, each labeled with the same initials.

Sophia’s emerald necklace, the one she’d worn to dinner that night, was in a box marked ST.

May 18th, 1919.

But it was the laptop that contained the real horror.

Videos, dozens of them.

Marcus had hidden cameras in his apartment, in his car, even in Sophia’s apartment.

The FBI tech specialist went pale as she scrolled through the files.

“We’ve got them,” she said.

May 18th, 11:58 p.

m.

Multiple files.

Dianiela couldn’t watch.

Wouldn’t watch, but Rachel did, taking notes with clinical detachment.

“He picked them up outside the restaurant,” Rachel narrated quietly.

Told them Sophia’s mom had been in an accident, was in the hospital.

They all got in to support her.

He drove them to the construction site, said he knew a shortcut to the hospital.

They didn’t suspect anything until he pulled into the site.

How did he Daniela couldn’t finish.

He had a gun and he drugged them.

The champagne they had at dinner.

The video from inside the restaurant shows him near their table earlier when they were in the bathroom.

He put something in the bottle.

So, they were already weakened when they realized the danger.

Already slower, confused, unable to fight back effectively.

Sophia figured it out first, Rachel continued.

She tried to grab the wheel.

That’s when she paused.

That’s when he shot her.

The others saw it happen.

They tried to run, but they were already too affected by the drugs.

Four friends watching their friend die, trying to escape while drugged and terrified.

It was worse than Dianiela had imagined.

“He hunted them through the construction site,” Rachel said, her professional composure cracking slightly like it was a game.

“The video shows everything.

We have him.

But they still didn’t have Kate.

Dianiela’s phone rang.

Carmen, Mia, there’s someone at the door.

She says she’s Marcus’s sister.

She looks hurt.

Dianiela and Rachel raced to her mother’s house.

Kate was on the porch, bloody and shaking.

She had a gash on her forehead, her clothes torn.

I got away, she gasped.

He took me to another property, an old warehouse the family owns.

He was going to, but I stabbed him with a pen and ran.

He’s there.

He’s hurt.

You can get him.

Rachel called in all units to converge on the warehouse, but when they arrived, Marcus was gone.

Blood on the floor showed Kate had indeed injured him, but he’d escaped.

An APB went out nationwide.

Meanwhile, the videos were being processed as evidence.

There was no question now.

Marcus had killed all five women methodically, cruy.

The federal prosecutor said it was the most airtight case she’d ever seen.

But they needed to find him first.

Three days passed.

No sign of Marcus.

His bank accounts were frozen, his passport flagged, but he’d vanished as completely as the five women once had.

Then Daniela remembered something.

A conversation at that Easter dinner.

Marcus bragging about a panic room his grandfather had built in the family estate during the Cold War.

Completely hidden, he’d said.

You could live there for months and no one would know.

She called Rachel.

Check the estate again.

There’s a panic room.

Continue reading….
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