“When the name was changed to the angel of vengeance.” She rubbed her temples. This was like a circular puzzle made of only one color. “If we take the business name as another clue, we can assume that LJM went missing, probably in January last year. Why would someone need a company to search for a missing person? I guess they might if they hired a private detective or something and wanted to keep their spending separated from their day-to-day accounts for tax reasons. Is that possible?”

“Yes. But I wouldn’t know for sure without seeing their financial records, and I haven’t figured out where to start with that. This is a tangled-up mess.”

“You’ll figure it out,” she said, confident that he would. “But the name change itself is the most significant thing. Whoever was searching for LJM stopped searching. They established Raguel, Seaheaven, and the Rosemary & Poppies businesses because they knew she was dead.”

He nodded. “Then their mission became vengeance.”

“You couldn’t find any record of a missing med school student? No police reports or newspaper articles or anything?”

“Nothing. Of course, this might be because there was no med school student who went missing, then died. This tangled-up mess of companies could be completely unrelated to Brewer and the bald man and Michael.”

“But you don’t think so.”

“No, I don’t. We know that LJM and Brewer are linked, both through Brewer’s house and through the copy of LJM’s bank statement on Brewer’s hard drive. What we don’t know is if or how any of this mess”—he waved at his computer screen—“connects to Brewer. That LJM was a real person feels . . . right, though.” Another shrug of his shoulders, this one sad. “I want to believe that someone’s been actively looking for her. That someone missed her.”

She leaned close, her hand covering his before she could stop herself. “Then let’s find out who that someone is.”

Chapter Eleven

Harrison, Ohio
Sunday, March 17, 10:30 a.m.

Cade opened one eye, groaning when bright sunshine hit like a sledgehammer. He’d forgotten to pull the shades in his bedroom when he’d tumbled into bed the night before. Who put a bedroom window facing east, anyway?

Evidently the guy who’d built this house, an old pedo who’d gotten what he’d deserved after luring a kid into his van with the tired old story about a missing puppy. Weren’t parents supposed to be teaching their kids not to fall for that shit?

And weren’t parents supposed to be watching their kids?

Luckily for the child in question, Cade had been there to save him, because the child’s parents had failed on both counts. The pedo had made all the usual excuses, of course. Cade hadn’t listened. The man had already drugged the little boy.