“Oh, really? How convenient. Betsy has such a vivid imagination. Always has. She’s hard to trust. I’m sure Bo is the same type.” I shake my head. “You can’t tell me you’re going to believe that guy about anything.”

“He has photos. Selfies of the two of them. I’ll get forensics involved, but it was one of their first dates, and the first time they’d, well, you know, messed around.” Branson taps the table again. “They didn’t come forward last year, for obvious reasons. The photos are geo-tagged and time-stamped. It fits. We didn’t know about Bo and Betsy’s relationship during our initial investigation. But now we know all about him. And we believe him. He has a lot to lose by confessing to a relationship with a student, but he came forward because he loves your daughter.”

“Oh, my. Poor Betsy. He’s a predator. I want to press charges. She needs to be protected from him. Arrest him immediately, Alan.” I bat my eyes and lower my head, a grieving mother of a victimized daughter.

“We’ll deal with Bo. Right now, I’m focused on you.” He flashes me a big smile. He does want a date.

“Okay, I’m listening.” A chill runs down my spine.

He leans forward again, palms on the table. “I’m thinking you were there. I think you followed one or both of your daughters to the park that day. You weren’t just furious with Mary. You were fighting with Betsy, too, right?”

“I didn’t know about Bo then.” My face flushes, but I tamp down the anger percolating in my veins.

“No, but I’m sure you were mad about something else. You have an anger issue, Jane. You spy on your girls. Try to control them. You play mind games to keep your daughters off balance, confused. Dependent on you. It fits a pattern I’ve seen before, your type of personality. Personality disorder, that is.”

“No, that’s not true.” I stand up, tired of this talk, of this blue dress, of this ugly conference room. “I’m going home.”

“Not yet, Jane. What did you do to Kylie Dorn?” Branson asks. “Did you hurt her?”

Okay, that’s it. I lean forward, meet his stare. “You mean Nancy Finch? That’s her real name. She’s alive and well somewhere in Mexico. You people are so stupid sometimes. She’s a wanted criminal, a check forger, and she’s been waltzing around in our community. I did us all a favor. I’ll tell you where she is and you can arrest her. Look, I’m a hero. I’m tracking her.” I hold out my phone and open the app. I’m just about to show him where Nancy/Kylie is but Branson stands up.