Page 121 of Blind Prophet

“You want me to believe you came here as part of the investigation?”

“It’s the truth.”

“Didn’t you just tell me you believe I’m being set up?”

“Yes. And this is part of that investigation.”

I study her light blue irises. Her posture and poise convey an elegance that the media painted as aloof and snobby, but they got her wrong. She’s intelligent and passionate. Driven. The anger lessens. Perhaps it stems from desperation, but I believe her.

She should’ve worked with me on this, but I understand.

“What did you learn?”

“A day hasn’t gone by that she hasn’t thought of you. Your father threatened her and forced her hand. His lawyers fabricated evidence that she’d been an unfit mother. She didn’t have the resources to fight his claims, and his attorneys had connections with the judge.”

“None of that clears my name.”

She glowers.

With a huff, I give in. If this is the topic she wants to cover, fine. “Did she share how much he paid her?”

“Only what was in the prenup. Not a dollar more. And she had to wait years for that.”

That actually tracks. Not the threatening of an unfit mother, but limiting the payout to contractual obligations. I always imagined the payout to be one that she perceived to be massive. To some, a million is a life-altering figure. To others, it’s a weekend getaway.

“The prenuptial agreement granted her two million dollars. She used the money to buy a home in Los Angeles, and she remarried. They had a happy marriage and two children together. He passed away about eighteen months ago. She sold their home and retired here. She has one daughter who lives in San Francisco and one who lives in Chicago. You have two sisters.”

She sounds hopeful. What is there to be hopeful about?

“I can tell…” She flattens her palm against my chest, like I’m a dog she’s trying to calm. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Will we?

“Your mother didn’t know about Geoffrey. She thought you were his first child, and he did nothing that made her suspect otherwise. But your mother always wondered about you. She has a search on Google that notifies her every time your name appears in an article.”

“Would you quit calling her my mother?”

“Fine. Rory. She was twenty-five when she married your father. Said the age difference caused quite a stir, as he was twice as old. She’d worked as a personal trainer at the gym he attended. The trainer your father hired had been sick and asked her to fill in for him. She says it was love at first sight.” Caroline waffles her head slightly. “Until it wasn’t.”

Until someone else caught my father’s attention. That fits the pattern.

“You should meet her. She said she’s written to you, but she never received a response.”

I recall a couple of letters. I tossed them, assuming she wanted a handout. Instructed Jay that he should recycle any correspondence from Aurora Calloway.

“I think you’ll like her. She worked as a physical therapist but recently retired. She has a garden in her backyard, and she’s building a?—”

“Caroline. Stop.” The woman remains on the front step. The yard is so small, she may hear us.

“I’m not ready.” It’s the most honest I’ve been with Caroline. In all those years of her pushing me, I wasn’t ready. “I don’t know if I’ll ever?—”

“She didn’t leave you willingly. Put yourself in her shoes. She had no money. He cut off her credit cards and accounts. His lawyers played nasty. She didn’t see a way to beat your father in a broken justice system that caters to wealth.”

A slight dizziness hits, and a familiar warning pain pulses behind my temples. I have Vicodin in my bag, but I don’t need it. Breathe. Focus.

“Did you learn anything useful?”

A buzzing in her handbag catches her attention, and she pulls her phone out.

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