Page 10 of Silent Echo

“Great. Thanks so much, Misty. You take care.”

“You too, Charlotte.”

She looked up the number for Provident and asked for one of the claims adjusters.

“James Whittaker. May I help you?”

“Yes, Mr. Whittaker. My name is Charlotte Fleming, and I’m calling because I suspect a claim you settled might be fraudulent.”

“Which claim is that?”

“It concerns that terrible bus accident on the Bay Bridge last November. There were three or four employees of the Windsor School whose policies would have been paid out. One of them was Penelope Watson. But I believe Ms. Watson is still alive. I wanted to make sure that a death benefit wasn’t paid out to her sister.”

She could hear keys clicking. “Watson with one t?”

“Yes.”

More clicking. “I see that there were two claims from that accident but nothing for Ms. Watson.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, quite sure.”

“Okay, thank you.”

Another indication that Penelope hadn’t been on that bus. Her sister would have claimed the death benefit if Penelope had died. She needed to find Nora Watson. Charlotte still hadn’t heard back from the woman she’d sent a Facebook message to about the birthday party. She’d decided to take matters into her own hands. She’d gone earlier that day to the police department to tell them her theory. A kind detective listened patiently, his face impassive, not betraying what he was thinking.

“I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through, Mrs. Fleming. It’s unimaginable. You say the picture you saw took place in a bookstore in Florida?”

She nodded.

“If there’s any credence to your theory, you would need to get the FBI involved. I can give you the number of the local field office.”

She’d gone home and made the phone call, and the agent answering the phone took down the information.

“I’ll forward this report to the appropriate squad. An agent will reach out to you shortly.”

Now all she had to do was tell Eli.

Harper was doing homework at a friend’s and wouldn’t be home until around nine. As soon as Eli walked in, Charlotte handed him a glass of wine and told him they needed to talk. She’d put out an assortment of cheeses and nuts and opened his favorite cabernet, hoping to put him in a more receptive frame of mind. She’d even lit some candles and put on some soft background music.

“What’s this all about?”

“I want to end the cold war,” she said, arching an eyebrow.

He took a sip of the wine and sat down at the island.

“There’s no war, honey. We’re on the same side,” he said.

“I know. Listen, I found out some things today that support my suspicions that Sebastion is alive.”

“What things?”

“For one thing, Sebastion’s teacher called both of us from her cell phone about an hour and a half before the accident occurred. I didn’t even notice the missed call because I had all those calls from school, and then the news …”

“Hmm, I’ll admit that’s weird.”

“Did you talk to her that day?”

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