“We really need the information as soon as possible,” Jessica said. “It would be a big help if you could just let us have a very quick look at the paperwork.”

Rachel shrugged. “Sorry, I can’t help you.”

Connor said, “How about you take a peek at the file and write the name down? We don’t have to see anything official, and no one ever has to know you helped us out.”

“I really shouldn’t . . .” The young woman twirled a pen between her fingers. Looked up at Connor from under long eyelashes.

He said, “I’d really appreciate it, Rachel.”

Jessica wasn’t sure who was flirting hardest. She said, “I’ll wait outside.”

Out on the sidewalk, she lit a cigarette and waited for Connor. He reappeared a couple of minutes later, a pink Post-it Note in his hand, a triumphant look on his face.

Jessica dropped the cigarette, eyed the Post-it. “Any luck?”

“Getting Rachel’s number? Sure.”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “You’re old enough to be her father.”

“I’m joking,” Connor said. He held up the slip of paper. “The name of the person who rented the house on Morrison and who made the monthly payments. You were right—it was someone else. Eleanor wasn’t paying a cent to stay in that place.”

Jessica’s heartbeat quickened. She tried to grab the Post-it, but Connor held it out of her reach.

“Am I forgiven yet?” he asked.

“Yeah, whatever. Just give me the goddamn note.”

He handed over the bright square of paper, and she stuffed it into her jeans pocket, then turned and set off along Colorado toward her truck.

“Where are you going?” Connor called after her.

Jessica ignored him. She wouldn’t be surprised if he did have Rachel’s number on another pink Post-it. Once back in the Silverado, she drove around the block and parked in a small residential street. She pulled the slip of paper from her pocket and stared at the name printed in Rachel’s neat handwriting.

Those jigsaw pieces that had been missing from Eleanor Lavelle’s life started to fall into place. For the first time since she’d arrived in Eagle Rock, Jessica felt like she was seeing the full picture.

The two words written on the piece of paper she held in her hand was the name of her real father; she was sure of it. Jessica picked up her cell phone from the charger on the dash.

It was time for a family reunion.

31 PRYCE

31

PRYCE

Medina was halfway out of his seat before he had even replaced the phone receiver and had one arm stuffed into his leather jacket by the time he’d finished speaking to Pryce across the desk.