“Yes.”
“My mother hasn’t worked there in years.”
“No.”
Chen looked directly at Vincent.
“But Peter Sloan does.”
Vincent felt something turn cold in his chest.
Peter Sloan had been the Hart family attorney for twenty-six years.
He had handled Isabella’s father’s estate.
He had attended Vincent and Isabella’s wedding.
He had stood beside Vincent in the hospital after Elena’s birth and toasted the baby with vending-machine coffee.
“He came to the hospital,” Vincent said.
Isabella nodded.
“He brought flowers.”
“And documents.”
Her face changed.
“He asked me to sign insurance paperwork.”
Chen leaned forward.
“When?”
“The night after Elena was born.”
“Were you medicated?”
“Yes.”
“Did you sign?”
“I don’t remember.”
Vincent’s chair scraped backward.
Chen raised a hand.
“Do not call him.”
Vincent ignored her.
“Do not contact him,” she repeated. “If Sloan is involved, we want him to believe we don’t know.”
Isabella stared at the forged surrender.
Then she whispered:
“My father never trusted Peter.”
Vincent turned.
“What?”
“He used to say Peter smiled before he lied.”
Mara Hart was found thirty-six hours later.
Not dead.
Not kidnapped.
Hiding.
She was staying in a motel outside Milwaukee under a false name.
Detective Keller brought her back after midnight.
When Isabella saw her sister step through the Moretti library doors, she crossed the room and slapped her.
Mara didn’t defend herself.
Isabella slapped her again.
Then collapsed into her arms.
“You left me.”
“I know.”
“You left me with her.”
“I know.”
“I thought you hated me.”
Mara began crying.
“I was trying to keep you alive.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“Start talking.”
Mara looked at him.
She looked ten years older than the twenty-eight-year-old woman he had joked with at Christmas.
“I went to the hospital that morning to bring Elena home.”
“We know.”
“The nurse gave me the discharge packet.”
Mara pulled a folded envelope from inside her coat.
“I never gave this to anyone.”
Chen, who had been waiting near the window, crossed immediately.
Mara handed her the envelope.
Inside were carbon copies.
Original discharge documents.
No surrender form.
Mara continued.
“When I got here, there was already a baby in Elena’s crib. Mom showed me a paper saying Isabella had given her temporary custody.”
“You believed her?” Isabella asked.
“For about thirty seconds.”
Mara looked ashamed.
“Then I saw the signature.”
“You knew it wasn’t mine.”
“You used to sign my school permission slips when Mom forgot. I know your signature better than she does.”
Isabella almost laughed.
Almost.
Mara wiped her face.
“I confronted her. Peter Sloan arrived twenty minutes later.”
Vincent stiffened.
“The camera didn’t show him.”
“He came through the service entrance.”
“What did he say?”
“That you had suffered a psychiatric episode.”
Isabella whispered, “What?”
“He said you tried to harm Elena.”
Vincent’s jaw clenched.
“And you believed that?”
“No.”
Mara’s voice cracked.
“Because I had seen you two hours earlier.”
Isabella frowned.
“You were barely awake, but when the nurse brought Elena near you, you smiled. You kept touching her foot.”
Mara pressed a fist against her mouth.
