CHAP 6— DESMOND'S FATHER
Adrian Cross arrived in Thistlewood Hollow two days later.
He wasn't what I expected.
No expensive suit.
No dramatic entrance.
He wore jeans, a navy work jacket, and the exhausted expression of a man who hadn't slept.
Desmond watched through Mara's front window.
“That's him?”
“Yes.”
“Is he taking me?”
The fear in his voice mattered more than anything Adrian wanted.
“No one is taking you anywhere today.”
“What about tomorrow?”
“I'll tell you the truth when I know it.”
Desmond nodded.
That was our new rule.
No promises we couldn't keep.
No comfortable lies.
Adrian met him with Ortiz present.
He didn't rush forward.
Didn't hug him.
Didn't say son like he had earned the right.
He simply sat across the room.
“Hi, Desmond.”
“Hi.”
“You've gotten tall.”
Desmond shrugged.
“I've seen pictures.”
“From Mom?”
“No.”
Adrian looked surprised.
“Online.”
That sounded exactly like Desmond.
After forty awkward minutes, Desmond asked:
“Why didn't you come?”
Adrian swallowed.
“I tried.”
“My mom said you didn't.”
“I know.”
“So somebody's lying.”
“Yes.”
“Is it her?”
Adrian took a breath.
“Your mother and I remember things differently.”
I respected him for not using the moment to destroy Corinne in front of her son.
But Desmond wasn't satisfied.
“Did you want me?”
Adrian's eyes filled.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
Adrian took out a battered wallet.
Inside was a tiny photograph.
Three-year-old Desmond asleep with a plastic dinosaur against his face.
“I carried this for seven years.”
Desmond stared.
He didn't cry.
Not yet.
He simply said:
“You can keep it.”
Adrian nodded.
“I planned to.”
Later, he gave Ortiz copies of court documents.
Emails.
Money transfers.
Birthday cards returned unopened.
One envelope had been stamped ADDRESS UNKNOWN.
Desmond studied them for nearly an hour.
Then he went outside.
I found him sitting beneath Mara's maple tree.
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
“Fair.”
He picked at the grass.
“If she's lying about him, what else did she lie about?”
I sat beside him.
“I don't know.”
“Do you hate her?”
The question caught me.
I thought of Corinne's voice on the recordings.
Wren begging for food.
Elise's letter.
“Yes,” would have been easy.
But Desmond still loved his mother.
“I hate what she did.”
“That's not what I asked.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“I don't know what I feel about her yet.”
He nodded.
“I think I hate her sometimes.”
“You're allowed to feel that.”
“Then I feel bad.”
“You're allowed to feel that too.”
He leaned against my shoulder.
For the first time since this started, he cried.
Quietly.
No dramatic sobbing.
Just a ten-year-old mourning a mother who still existed.
That evening, Adrian asked to speak privately.
“I want custody.”
“I assumed.”
“You aren't his legal parent.”
“I know.”
“But he clearly trusts you.”
I waited.
“I don't want to rip him away from Wren.”
That surprised me.
“What are you proposing?”
“Temporary placement nearby. Slowly.”
“Corinne will fight.”
“I've been fighting her for seven years.”
He looked toward the house.
“I can fight longer.”
For the first time, Adrian felt less like a threat.
More like an unexpected ally.
Then my phone rang.
Calder.
“We found something.”
“What?”
“Armitage Development made a payment to Pike's firm.”
“How much?”
“One hundred twenty-five thousand dollars.”
“For what?”
“Consulting.”
“That means nothing.”
“By itself, correct.”
She paused.
“But eleven days later, Pike transferred forty thousand to a company called Hollow Creek Strategies.”
“Whose company?”
“We're checking.”
I had a feeling.
“Corinne?”
“No.”
“Lila?”
“No.”
“Who?”
Calder exhaled.
“Corinne's brother.”
I didn't know she had a brother.
Neither did Desmond.
Neither did Adrian.
His name was Malcolm Vale.
He lived in Colorado.
And according to public records, he had once worked for Armitage Development.
May you like
The conspiracy suddenly had another branch.
But this time, we knew where to start looking.
