“Yes.”
“Someone went inside.”
“Yes.”
“Before Dad was found.”
“Yes.”
Jory looked as if she might stand.
Clare raised one hand.
“Stop.”
Jory looked at her.
“We still do not know what happened inside.”
Jory’s eyes filled with anger.
“I know.”
“No. Know it now.”
Silence.
Jory sat back.
Gloria had more.
Four months after Gerald’s stroke, a man visited her.
Not Vickers.
She could not identify him.
He asked whether she had spoken to anyone about “commercial traffic” near Baxter’s property.
The conversation felt wrong.
Two weeks later, someone left an envelope in her mailbox containing photographs of her walking her dog.
No threat written.
No demand.
Just photographs.
Gloria sold her house three months later.
Moved.
“Why didn’t you report it?”
“I told police about the envelope.”
“And?”
“No direct threat.”
“What changed now?”
Gloria looked into the camera.
“I got tired of feeling stupid for being afraid.”
That sentence stayed with Jory.
Police interest changed.
Sandra Faulk from the OPP major-crime unit was assigned to review Gerald’s original medical emergency and the new evidence.
She was meticulous.
No assumptions.
She interviewed Jory for three hours.
Read the notebooks.
Asked about every time Jory had spoken to Devo, Vickers, staff, police, doctors, neighbors.
“Twenty-three months?” Sandra asked.
“Yes.”
“You wrote all this as it happened?”
“Mostly same day.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t trust memory.”
Sandra looked up.
“Good.”
She requested original hospital records.
Ambulance notes.
Police attendance report.
Photographs from the garage.
The initial scene had been treated as a medical emergency.
But one paramedic note contained a detail nobody had focused on.
Abrasion and bruising along Gerald’s right hip and lower back.
At the time, it was assumed he had fallen.
Sandra had the records reviewed.
Could those injuries have resulted from collapse?
Yes.
Could they have predated the stroke?
Possibly.
Could they be consistent with impact?
Possibly.
Not proof.
Then Ray Leduc called.
Tommy had found him.
Ray remembered the black truck from three years earlier.
More importantly, he remembered who dropped it off.
“Guy named Reg.”
“Vickers?”
“Maybe.”
“Describe him.”
Ray did.
It matched.
Ray remembered because the customer insisted on paying cash for part of the repair and requested that no photographs beyond required internal damage records be retained.
Iron Pines kept them anyway.
Standard shop process at the time.
“What did he say caused the damage?”
“Parking barrier.”
“What kind?”
“Concrete bollard.”
Sandra later compared the damage height to common barriers.
Not impossible.
Not entirely convincing.
Again:
Piece.
Not proof.
The investigation became slower after that.
Jory hated it.
Legal stories often make investigations look like doors opening one after another.
Real investigations involved waiting.
Requests.
Warrants considered and rejected or narrowed.
Interviews.
Records produced late.
Corporate lawyers.
Data retention.
Medical experts disagreeing.
The weeks between discoveries felt longer than the discoveries themselves.
Iron Pines became where Jory survived the waiting.
December arrived.
Snow gathered along the alley.
She worked.
Baxter’s Garage during the day.
Iron Pines three evenings and Saturdays.
Calvin finally confronted her schedule.
“How many hours?”
“In what?”
“Week.”
“I don’t know.”
“Lie.”
“Seventy?”
“Higher.”
“Maybe.”
“You’re going to make a mistake.”