Part 2: My aunt wanted to adopt my little sister after our parents d*ed just to get her hands on the money — she had no idea I had one more card to play.

CHAPTER 7 — THE PERSON BEHIND HOWARD WAS THE LAST PERSON I EXPECTED

The number belonged to no one.

At least on paper.

Prepaid phone.

Cash purchase.

Fake registration.

But criminals make mistakes.

Sometimes tiny ones.

Sometimes stupid ones.

The phone had connected to Wi-Fi three times.

Once at Howard’s house.

Once at a coffee shop.

And once at a place that made Detective Ruiz go completely silent when the report reached her desk.

The county child-services building.

When she told me, my stomach turned.

“No.”

Mercer leaned forward.

“Someone inside the agency?”

“Possibly.”

I thought about every inspection.

Every accusation.

Every time I’d tried to explain that Denise was manipulating the process.

And one face rose immediately in my mind.

Gordon Kessler.

Senior case supervisor.

Fifty-something.

Gray suit.

Expressionless voice.

The man who had sat across from me three weeks after my parents died and said:

“You seem emotionally volatile, Michael.”