was being sexist. She’d say I would never have blamed her if you got shot.”
Simon liked that. “You know what? I think you’re right.”
“Where were you?” Sam asked.
Simon wanted to protect his son, only natural, but he also didn’t want to coddle him. “I just talked to one of Paige’s professors.”
Sam looked at him.
He used the vaguest terms possible to let Sam know about the sexual assault—he may not want to coddle, but he didn’t want to just chuck his son in the deep end either. Sam listened without interrupting. He fought to remain stoic, but Simon recognized the telltale quiver of his lower lip.
“When was this exactly?” Sam asked when his father had finished.
“I’m not sure. Toward the end of first semester.”
“She called me one night. Paige. Out of the blue. I mean, I don’t think we’d exchanged more than a few texts, and we never called each other.”
“What did she say?”
“She just said she wanted to talk.”
“About?”
“I don’t know.” Sam gave a too-big shrug. “It was late on a Friday night. There was a party at Martin’s. I didn’t really listen. I just wanted to get her off the line. So yeah, that’s what I did.”
Simon put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “It might not have been the same night, Sam.”
“Right,” Sam said in the most unconvincing voice he could muster. “Might not have been.”
Simon was about to follow up more, but he heard someone clear his throat. He turned and was surprised to see the man who saved Ingrid’s life standing behind him.
“Cornelius?”
He still wore the ripped jeans and the unruly white-gray beard.
“How’s Ingrid doing?” Cornelius asked.
“Hard to say.” Simon brought Sam into the fold. “Sam, this is Cornelius. He…” Simon couldn’t tell him that Cornelius had shot Luther and thus saved not just Ingrid but Simon as well. “Cornelius owns the building where Paige lived in the Bronx. He’s been a big help to us.”
Sam stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too, young man.” Cornelius faced Simon. “Can I talk to you a second?”
“Sure.”
“I need to use the bathroom anyway,” Sam said before moving down the corridor.
Simon turned to Cornelius. “What’s up?”
“I need you to come with me,” Cornelius said.
“Where?”
“Back to my apartment. Rocco is going to be there. With Luther. They got something you need to hear.”
Chapter
Thirty-Four
Ash and Dee Dee had prepared, so they moved fast.
They tossed Elena’s body in a wheelbarrow by the back door. Ash maneuvered the wheelbarrow into the woods while Dee Dee stayed at the cabin and finished the cleanup.
Digging a hole takes a while. Filling it in, not so much.
As they drove south, Dee Dee kept going through Elena’s phone.
“Not much here,” she told Ash. “Elena Ramirez is a bigwig at VMB Investigations. We already knew that. Her client was Henry Thorpe’s father. We already knew that.” She looked up. “It’s approved, by the way.”
“What’s approved?”
“Simon Greene. You’ll be given the same payment as the others.”
“Google him,” Ash said. “I want to see what we can learn.”
She started typing. It didn’t take long. The PPG Wealth Management group website came up, complete with Simon Greene’s biography. There were two photos of him—a headshot and a group picture with the entire PPG team.
They passed the state line.
“Twelve percent battery left,” Dee Dee said. “Do we have a charger for this kind of phone?”
“Check the pocket behind my seat.”
Dee Dee was just stretching to do that when Elena’s phone vibrated. A new message came in from Simon Greene. She read it out loud to Ash:
DNA test shows I’m Paige’s father. Still don’t know how she hooked up with Aaron, but I think it’s about the illegal adoptions. Call me when you finish with Alison Mayflower.
Ash asked her to read it again. Then he said, “If we don’t answer him, he may start to worry about Elena Ramirez and make calls.”
“How about…?” She started typing:
Heading over the border to Canada for this meet, so I might be out of touch for a few days. Where will you be?
Ash nodded.
Dee Dee stared at the screen as Ash hit the accelerator. “He’s typing a reply,” she said.
“We should probably get off the messaging app when you’re done with this.”
“Why?’
“There might be a way to trace it, I don’t know.”
The phone vibrated again:
At hospital for now, but that could change.
“Hospital,” Dee Dee repeated. “Should I ask which one?”
“No, he’ll get suspicious. Besides, we know already. Elena’s history had recent visits to one in upper Manhattan.”
“Good point. How about…?”
She typed it up and then