“Sure.”
She kissed my cheek.
I waited until she disappeared inside.
Then drove directly to my office.
At 3:11 p.m.—
I called Marcus Hale.
MARCUS HAD SPENT FIFTEEN YEARS INVESTIGATING CORPORATE FRAUD
He had eventually opened his own private investigative firm.
If somebody moved money illegally—
Marcus usually found the trail.
He answered quickly.
“Vale.”
“I need you to reopen something.”
Silence.
Then:
“The divorce?”
“Yes.”
Another pause.
“I wondered when you’d call.”
That irritated me.
“What does that mean?”
“The evidence against Claire always looked too neat.”
I sat straighter.
“You never said that.”
“You weren’t interested in hearing it.”
I had no answer.
Because he was right.
“Find Claire.”
Marcus went quiet.
“She’s using Bennett again?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you want checked?”
“Everything.”
I looked over Bellmere through my office windows.
“Where she lives.”
“Where she worked.”
“Any legally available hospital or assistance records.”
“And every piece of evidence from the divorce.”
“The transfers?”
“Yes.”
“Hotel photographs?”
“Yes.”
“The necklace?”
“All of it.”
Marcus paused.
Then asked:
“What happened?”
“I saw her.”
“And?”
“She had twins.”
Silence.
“How old?”
“Maybe ten months.”
Marcus understood the timing immediately.
“Adrian.”
“I know.”
“No.”
His voice was firm.
“You don’t know anything yet.”
“Then find out.”
MARCUS CALLED THAT EVENING
“I found a hospital record.”
I stood.
“What kind?”
“Emergency maternity intake.”
“When?”
“Eleven months ago.”
My legs suddenly felt weak.
“Where?”
“Willowcrest Medical Center.”
That hospital was less than half an hour from my old house.
“She was pregnant?”
“Twins.”
I sat.
“Was she alone?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
Then Marcus said:
“Your name was listed as her emergency contact.”
