the bottom.
One was tall and broad-shouldered, probably in his forties, wearing a gray suit without a tie.
The other was younger and carried a tablet.
“Mr. Prescott,” the older man said.
“Daniel.”
His gaze moved toward me and Lily.
Not suspiciously.
Professionally.
“This is Elena Walker,” Adrian said. “And her daughter, Lily.”
Daniel gave me a small nod.
“Ma’am.”
The younger man stepped forward and handed Adrian a phone.
“We confirmed the number.”
“Anything else?”
“It’s registered to Ethan Walker. Dallas address.”
I hated hearing my life summarized in clipped facts.
Name.
Number.
Address.
As if everything that had happened could be reduced to a database entry.
“Did he make any threats?” I asked.
Daniel looked at Adrian first.
Adrian immediately gestured toward me.
“Ask her questions directly. This is her situation.”
Something in my chest loosened.
Daniel turned back to me.
“No, ma’am. Nothing threatening. He told the
