Michael’s face reddened with anger. “Why are you only asking about her now? Where were you last week? Or yesterday? Where have you been her whole life?” I shot back, but he just pulled out his phone.
“My daughter is missing,” he barked into the phone. “Find out where she is now!” I crossed my arms and took a seat, trying to ignore the tension that was thick in the air. Michael paced the room while Allison glanced back and forth between us, clearly uncomfortable.
After a few minutes, Michael’s phone rang again.
He raised his phone to his ear, there was a voice coming from the other side of the phone, "Sir, your daughter died on her birthday due to an allergic reaction to nuts."
His eyes darted to mine, filled with horror and confusion. “No… No, that can’t be true. That’s… impossible,” he muttered, his voice barely audible now.
"It’s true," The person on the phone insisted, "Someone deliberately killed your daughter. The relevant evidence and suspect information have been sent to your email, please check."
When he opened the email attachment, it had a picture of Allison and a recording of the call where Allison directed everything.
