Page 71 of Corpse Roads

“Harlow’s description said the chapel appeared to be abandoned in the middle of nowhere. It may not be registered.”

“Goddammit. Fine, we can send some drones to scope out the land. Alert the local police department so we don’t get shot down.”

Theo nods, taking rapid notes. “The Cobra team has wrapped up their other assignments. I’ll rope Kade into some reconnaissance.”

“Good. Get it done.”

Anxiety is still written across Theo’s stony expression. He’s generally an awkward person, always has been. His computer code and textbooks wrap him in a security blanket. He wasn’t always this detached and lifeless, though.

“What is it?” I sit up in my chair. “Theo?”

“We need to talk about Harlow’s identity.” He opens a folder, rifling through paperwork. “We’ve confirmed that Pastor and Mrs Michaels do not exist.”

“I see. Well, we know that serial killers use pseudonyms,” I muse. “It’s hardly surprising they lied about their names.”

“I’ve had the whole intelligence department scouring decades of records.” Theo hands me a sheet of paper. “That’s a list of ordained pastors in the last forty years. No Michaels.”

“So he’s a whack job who thinks that he’s God’s fucking gift.”

“Something like that.” His eyes dart around the room. “But there’s more to it. I just got the report back from forensics.”

“Harlow’s DNA results?”

Theo nods tightly. “It took a while to compile everything against the national database and verify what we found.”

“Just spit it out. What’s going on?”

“Well… her name isn’t Harlow Michaels, as we anticipated. They’re not her parents, Hunt. They never were.”

I stare up at Theo’s apprehensive face. We tossed this theory around after taking her testimony last week. Having it confirmed means a shitstorm is about to blow up in my stupid face.

“Please tell me she doesn’t have family,” I blurt.

His blonde eyebrows knit together. “Why would you say that?”

I slam my hands down on the desk. “We’ve been living with her for weeks and if she has a fucking family out there, we’re about to get dragged over the coals for not reuniting them sooner.”

Theo’s cheeks darken. “These tests take time.”

“Like they’re gonna give a shit about that!”

I straighten the loose stacks of paperwork I disturbed, internally hating myself for being so callous. Someone has to worry about this firm. No one else seems to give a damn right now.

“Her name is Leticia Kensington,” Theo grinds out. “She has a real family. And if there’s a single scrap of humanity left in you, then you will do the right thing and call them now.”

“Just give me the report and get out of my office. I don’t need a goddamn lecture about how to look after my client.”

“I’m not done.”

Stepping closer, Theo slams the remaining folder of paperwork down in front of me. It’s thick, with years’ worth of records spilling out. More than a simple DNA report.

“She’s been missing for the past thirteen years,” he reveals. “This isn’t just a murder investigation anymore—she was kidnapped. Harlow wasn’t born in that cage.”

“Thirteen years? Is this a joke?”

Theo visibly gulps. “She went missing at nine years old. There were zero leads, and the investigation went cold. She was never to be seen again.”

Fierce pain begins to pound behind my eyes. Every word that has left Harlow’s mouth is either a lie, or a traumatised delusion. Either way, my life is about to get a hell of a lot harder.

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