bear. He had written my name as if I were the harbor he hoped his children might reach.
I had spent years believing I owed him nothing more than respect for an honest man.
Now his children looked at me like a promise.
“Elise,” I said, “find Anna.”
“We are.”
“No. Make it the priority.”
“It already is.”
“Then make it more than that.”
She studied me. “You’re angry.”
“Yes.”
“Good. Be angry in this room. Not in court. Not around the children. Not around Nathan. And especially not around Claire.”
“I don’t plan to see Claire.”
“That may not be up to you.”
The words proved true three days later.
The court scheduled an emergency review after Evan’s note and the photograph were entered into the case file. Claire’s attorney objected to nearly everything—authenticity, chain of custody, relevance—but even he could not soften the date on the back of
