They had not simply buried an old crime and moved on with their lives.

They had liked how the old crime worked out.

They had done it again.

And they were, I had every reason to believe, going to keep doing it.

That was the thing that finally moved me, after twelve years of silence, to open the box and use it.

Not what they had done to me.

What they were still doing to others.

Two investigators entered the ballroom through the doors, and the guests parted to let them through, and my father stared at me with an expression of pure betrayal.