“He shouldn’t.”
I stared at the screen.
“But he does.”
“Yes.”
“How far back?”
“Almost three years.”
The photograph.
The hospital fundraiser.
The beginning of Ethan’s questions about Northbridge.
I whispered, “Someone was tracking them.”
Daniel didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
Adrian returned with Lily, who now possessed a box of crayons large enough to stock an elementary school.
“They said I can keep them.”
“I’m very happy for you.”
She climbed into her chair.
Adrian sat.
Daniel quietly turned the laptop toward him.
He read.
His face hardened.
“Where did this come from?”
“Claire’s account.”
“That’s impossible.”
“You said she’s had access for seven years,” I said.
“Not to this.”
“What is it?”
Adrian looked at me.
“Private aviation records.”
“Your flights?”
“Mine. My family’s.”
“And Ethan’s?”
“That’s what I don’t understand.”
Daniel tapped a line on the screen.
“These entries weren’t created through the regular system. They were imported.”
“By Claire?” I asked.
“We don’t know.”
“Can you see when?”
“Yes.”
He pointed.
I leaned closer.
The first import date was nearly three years earlier.
Two days after the photograph had been taken.
Adrian pushed his coffee away.
“We need to go to the office.”
I immediately shook my head.
“You need to go to the office.”
His gaze lifted.
“You’re not coming?”
“No.”
He seemed surprised.
“So am I,” I admitted.
“But I have a daughter. I have an attorney to call. I have a cousin wondering where I am. And I have spent the last twelve hours being pulled into a mystery involving people I barely know.”
I took a breath.
“I need to stop reacting.”
Adrian watched me carefully.
“What are you going to do?”
“Call Celeste.”
“Good.”
“Then Marisol.”
“Good.”
“And then Ethan.”
His expression changed slightly.
“That may not be—”
I raised an eyebrow.
He stopped.
Then smiled faintly.
“Your decision.”
“Yes.”
Lily held up a crayon.
“Purple.”
I looked at it.
“Yes, baby. Purple.”
She went back to drawing.
I felt something inside me settle.
Not confidence exactly.
Something more useful.
Direction.
I had boarded the plane believing my life was falling apart.
Maybe it was.
But falling apart and ending were not the same thing.
Sometimes things broke because they had been built around truths no one had been willing to face.
I looked at Adrian.
