He heard Bree’s sharp inhale, saw hope igniting her features. He felt it, too. This was a toehold. Not the mother’s name, no, but he really did think now that Adam had expected to see the daughter’s face looking out at him from the photo Marshall had shown him. If Lexie Pine was the daughter, then all they had to do was find her and take her, and they would own the mother.

Marshall was very good at finding people. If he thought of it as an arrest, then he was very good at taking people, too.

“Good,” he said.

Adam touched his arm, rushing in with a defense. “But it can’t be related. It was her idea. Lexie Pine can’t be connected to . . .” His voice faltered. “To my son.”

“Who’s Lexa Pin?” It was Kelly. Against all odds her eyes were open. “Who did you hurt?” A slurred echo of Bree. “Did you do this? Is it because of you?”

“Jesus, now look!” Adam hissed at Bree, and then to his wife, he said, “Of course not. I didn’t do anything. These people are insane.”

Kelly struggled to sit up, eyes blazing, hands curled into claws that scrabbled feebly at her husband’s chest. “Who’s Luxie Pime?”

“Please leave,” Adam Wilkerson told them, catching her wrists. “I need to see to my wife.”

Kelly was still trying to claw at him, held fast by her husband. Bree looked ready to leap in and help her.

Marshall jumped up and caught Bree by the arm, hauling her back toward the foyer, though part of him wanted to get out of the way and let these mothers rip Adam Wilkerson to flinders. “Let’s go.”

“The hell,” she said, pulling.

“Bree. No time. We have what we need.”

A name. A state. A location. Even an exact year for the inciting incident, since Trey and Spencer had been seniors when this worm was a pledge. Marshall could find Lexie Pine, no doubt. The only question was, could he find her fast enough? He had no more time to waste here.

“I’m going to call the cops if you don’t leave,” Adam snapped. He was still awkwardly wrestling Kelly. She was floppy and slow, fighting at him as if she were underwater.

Bree breathed in sharp, but Marshall held his eyes. “I don’t think you will call the cops.”

They stared each other down. Adam had been so self-righteous when he’d told his wife, “I didn’t do anything.” But Adam’s gaze dropped first.

“Just go!” he said. They did. They were almost through the doorway when he added, “But you will tell us what you find?”

This guy was such a weasel. He was only now considering what it would mean if the name helped after all. That they might find his son.