Julian stared at the photograph.
“So Dad knew him?”
“Yes.”
“And now he was at my school?”
“Possibly.”
Daniels held up a hand again.
“We can’t establish from one partial sighting that Pike was there yesterday.”
Julian nodded.
But I could see the thought settling inside him.
His father.
Maya.
The guitar.
The wheelchair.
A chain of events that seemed impossible and yet had begun years before.
Rebecca continued.
“Tom eventually stopped working with us.”
“Why?”
“He became frustrated. Records disappeared. People changed their stories. The board said there wasn’t enough evidence.”
“And then?”
“Nothing.”
I heard anger in my own voice.
See more on the next page
“So everyone moved on?”
“No.”
Rebecca looked directly at me.
“Tom didn’t.”
The room seemed to shrink.
She opened another folder.
Inside was a photocopy of a handwritten note.
I recognized Thomas’s handwriting immediately.
Check replacement inventory. Follow the children, not the invoices.
