My stomach dropped.

I pulled back the rug and noticed a loose floorboard. When I lifted it, I found a hidden compartment containing a recording device sealed in a plastic bag.

My hands shook as I turned it on.

Then Ben’s voice filled the room.

“If you’re hearing this, something went wrong. I didn’t want to bring this up at home, not around the kids. Aaron is in serious trouble… worse than he admits. I discovered he altered a case report last year. If it comes out, his career is finished… maybe more.”

At first, I didn’t understand what this had to do with Ben’s death.

Then his voice continued, strained with fear:

“I told him if he didn’t come clean, I would report it. I think… that was a mistake.”

The recording ended.

I sat there in shock, the truth slowly coming together.

Had Aaron been involved?

He had always insisted it was just the storm.

But Ben’s words suggested something else.

When I got home, I forced myself through dinner, barely tasting anything. Later that night, I texted Aaron, asking him to come over the next morning.

He agreed immediately.

When he arrived, I set the recorder on the table and pressed play.

As Ben’s voice echoed through the kitchen, Aaron’s face went pale.

“It’s not what it sounds like,” he said quickly. “I didn’t hurt him—I just wanted to talk. He saw me following him and sped up—”

“You were there?” I demanded. “You chased him during a storm because you were afraid he’d expose you?”

He shook his head, panicking. “He was far ahead of me. I went to the cabin, but he wasn’t there. I didn’t know about the crash until later. I never meant for this to happen—”

“But it did,” I said. “And then you came into my home and lied to me and my daughters.”

He tried to downplay it, calling it a small mistake, something he did to protect a family.

“And Ben found out,” I said.

He nodded.

“Then I can’t ignore it either.”

I told him I had already handed the recording over to his superiors. Internal Affairs was investigating.

Minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

Two officers stood outside.

Aaron didn’t resist. He simply raised his hands and went with them.

By evening, everyone in the neighborhood knew he had been arrested.

Since then, I’ve given statements and answered endless questions.

This morning, I took my daughters back to the memorial.

We brought fresh flowers and stood together in silence.

I told them the truth—that their father hadn’t made a careless mistake. He had discovered something wrong and was trying to do what was right.

Lucy leaned against me and whispered, “Dad was good.”

I looked at the cross, the flowers swaying in the wind, and nodded.

“Yes,” I said softly. “He was.”