Jessica knew paper tripping—or ghosting—was a form of identity theft where someone stole the identity of a dead person who would’ve been around the same age as the “ghoster” had they still been alive. The practice was far less common these days because of the increased computerization of government records and the sharing of information by different agencies. But back in the early ’90s, it would just about have still been possible to assume the identity of a dead person and go on to apply for passports or Social Security benefits in their name.

“Jessica Shaw and Tony Shaw—who were they?” she asked.

“I don’t know the exact details,” Pryce said. “I’m pretty sure the girl was born the same year as you were and died around a year later. I think Tony Shaw was actually born the year before Brad, and he died when he was about fifteen. Their births were registered in LA, but they were both out of state when they died. I do know the real Jessica Shaw and Tony Shaw shared a surname, but they weren’t related in any way. The gangbanger had an excellent counterfeit contact who had a whole bunch of potential “ghosts” lined up—with fake birth certificates to match—just waiting to be sold for the right price to anyone who had to disappear for a while.”

“And who paid for all of this deception?”

“Me. I used my own savings to pay for the IDs and the car. I know Brad would’ve done the same for me if I was ever in trouble.”

“Do you also know why he was going by the name of Rob Young while living in Eagle Rock?”

Pryce shook his head. “I don’t. The first I knew anything about anyone called Rob Young was when I heard some talk between other cops about the prime suspect in the Lavelle case. It threw me at first before I realized they were talking about Brad.”

Jessica’s head was starting to hurt, and her throat felt tight, but she had to ask the next question. “Do you think there’s any chance at all Tony—Brad—was my biological father?”

“I really don’t know, Jessica,” Pryce said gently. “Maybe this will provide some of the answers you’re still looking for.”

He handed Jessica the envelope.

“What is it?” She turned it over in her hands. It was blank on both sides.

“A letter from Brad to you,” Pryce said. “I don’t know what it contains. I never opened it. It was mailed to me at the station around ten years ago, along with a note asking me to make sure you received it only if something happened to him and you showed up in LA one day asking questions. I guess today is that day.”

Jessica stuffed the envelope into the glove compartment next to the Thrifty’s bag.