windshield at traffic moving past, ordinary and indifferent.

For the first time since I had read that email, I stopped crying.

“Dana,” I said, “there’s more.”

There was a pause.

“How much more?”

I looked at the flash drive in my palm.

“Enough to bury them.”

PART 3

Dana Moretti’s office sat on the fourth floor of an old brick building in downtown Columbus, continue reading …