THE NEXT MORNING, and with Gabe’s permission, Decker went through the papers Terry had sent him. He wasn’t interested in the power-of-attorney documents, just who prepared them and who notarized them. He wanted verification that Terry’s signature was from Terry and not some proxy. At eight A.M., he called up the law firm and spoke to the answering service, telling them that he had an emergency situation and needed to talk to Justin Keeler right away. He got the call back two hours later.

“This is Justin Keeler.”

“Lieutenant Peter Decker with the LAPD. I’ve been working on a missing persons case for the last week. Her name is Terry McLaughlin—”

“You can stop right there, Lieutenant. You must know that I’m going to invoke attorney–client privilege.”

“So she is your client.”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“I’m in possession of some papers given to her son, Gabriel Whitman, that she supposedly signed and notarized. They were prepared by you and notarized by a Carin Wilson. Does she work for you?”

“Carin Wilson works for us. How’d you get the papers?”

“Gabriel is living with me and my family. The envelope was on our doorstep last night. The papers didn’t come in the mail. Someone delivered them by hand. All I want is verification that Terry McLaughlin signed these papers and it’s not a forgery.”

“If they’re notarized by Carin Wilson, I guarantee you that the papers are not a forgery. She’s fifty-two and has been a notary for twenty years.”

Decker paused. “I’m still a little squirrelly about this, Mr. Keeler. I’m sure someone with Terry’s ID signed the papers. I want to make sure that the woman you think is Terry is the real Terry McLaughlin. Can I come down and show you a picture of her?”

“To say yes or no would also be a violation of attorney–client privilege. How about if you mail me the picture. If there’s a problem, I’ll let you know.”

“Mr. Keeler, all I’m trying to do is give the poor kid some information about his missing mother. Terry’s husband is a violent guy, capable of murder. I just want to make sure she’s not dead.”

Keeler sighed. “She’s not dead.” A pause. “I shouldn’t have told you that. But if her son read the letter in the packet, he already knows that she’s alive.”

“So Terry McLaughlin really did write the letter?”

“I can’t tell you any more.”

“You obviously know the contents of the letter.”

“I can’t tell you any more. Just read the damn letter.”

“I did.”

“So respect her damn wishes. And if you care about her, get her violent husband off her back.” Keeler hung up the phone.