For several seconds, nobody in the interview room moved.
Connor’s words seemed too simple for what they meant.
Gabriel isn't Noah's father either.
I pressed the phone harder to my ear.
“What do you mean?”
“You heard me.”
“No. I heard a conclusion. I’m asking how you reached it.”
Connor exhaled.
“Vale got a sample from Gabriel.”
“You already said that.”
“And compared it.”
“To Noah?”
“Yes.”
“With the same laboratory that did your real test?”
“Yes.”
“And the result excluded Gabriel.”
“Yes.”
Officer Morales had returned to the doorway. He stopped when he heard Connor’s answer.
Kenneth looked at me, then at Morales.
I kept my voice controlled.
“How certain?”
“What?”
“The exclusion.”
“Certain.”
“That isn’t a scientific term.”
“Kirsten, I’m not reading the report to you.”
“Then remember what it said.”
Connor was silent.
“Was Gabriel excluded as biological father?”
“Yes.”
“Completely?”
“Yes.”
Morales wrote quickly.
I asked, “Did Melinda know?”
“No.”
“Did Gabriel?”
“No.”
“Did Walter?”
“No.”
“Did anyone besides you and Vale?”
“No.”
That answer created an entirely different problem.
Two men had spent months fighting over a child neither one had fathered.
One had built his inheritance around the child.
The other had filed a court action believing he might have a son.
And somewhere between those lives stood Melinda, who apparently had not told anyone the full truth.
“Who is Noah’s father?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I do.”
“You secretly tested two men.”
“Yes.”
“You had an investigator following Melinda for years.”
“Yes.”
“You forged another test.”
“Yes.”
“And you never identified the actual father?”
“I tried.”
There was something about the way he said it.
Not defensive.
Defeated.
“How?”
“Vale went through everything.”
“Everything meaning what?”
“Her old phone records. Credit cards. Messages. Work travel. People she knew.”
“You had him investigate every man in her life?”
“Every possibility.”
I closed my eyes.
There was obsessive jealousy.
Then there was this.
“Without her knowledge.”
“Yes.”
“How many men?”
Connor hesitated.
“Three serious possibilities.”
Gabriel made one.
Connor made two.
“Who was the third?”
“I never got a name.”
Morales stepped closer.
I asked again.
“Who?”
“I said I don’t know.”
“You just said there were three possibilities.”
“There was a third man. We never identified him.”
“Why did you think he existed?”
“Because of a hotel record.”
My pulse changed.
“What hotel record?”
“Melinda stayed at a hotel downtown during the conception window.”
“For work?”
“That’s what she said.”
“And?”
“The room was booked by someone else.”
“Who?”
“A company.”
“What company?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You hired Vale to investigate it.”
“Yes.”
“So he knows.”
“Probably.”
That one word made everything rotate back toward the missing investigator.
Vale knew who paid him to follow Melinda.
Vale may have known the third possible father.
Vale had kept Connor’s secret test.
Vale had vanished after recording enough evidence to destroy several people.
“Is that why you’re afraid of Vale?” I asked.
“I’m afraid of what he’ll sell.”
“To whom?”
“Anyone.”
“Did he ever blackmail Melinda?”
“No.”
“Walter?”
“I don’t know.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
That admission was immediate.
“For what?”
“Keeping quiet.”
“About the fake paternity report?”
“That was part of it.”
“What else?”
Connor went silent.
I heard another train horn.
Closer this time.
Morales motioned toward the detective in the hallway.
They were narrowing the location.
“Connor.”
“What?”
“What else did Vale know?”
“He knew about the accounts.”
“The money you hid from me.”
“Yes.”
“He helped you hide it?”
“No.”
“Then how?”
“He found out.”
“Because you hired him.”
“Yes.”
“Did he ever threaten to tell me?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you didn’t have enough money to make the information useful.”
The cruelty was so casual that it almost became absurd.
Even blackmail had been priced.
“Walter did.”
“Yes.”
“And the trust gave Vale leverage.”
“Yes.”
“So why send the flash drive to me?”
Connor laughed bitterly.
“Because he knew I would think you had it.”
“That doesn’t explain why.”
“It does if he wanted me to come after you.”
I looked at Morales.
That possibility had already occurred to him.
“You think Vale is framing you.”
“Yes.”
“For Gabriel’s assault?”
“For everything.”
“That’s convenient.”
“I know how it sounds.”
“So come in.”
“I can’t.”
“Because of the financial crimes.”
“Partly.”
“What else?”
“I need to find Vale first.”
“No.”
“Kirsten—”
“No. You need to stop pretending that you’re still the person who gets to control the sequence.”
“You don’t understand what he has.”
“Then tell us.”
“If the police arrest me first, Vale disappears.”
“He already disappeared.”
“No.”
Connor’s tone changed.
“He wants us to think that.”
I frowned.
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because Raymond never disappears without being paid.”
“Meaning?”
“He always leaves a trail someone can buy.”
“Do you know where that trail is?”
“No.”
“Then you have nothing.”
“I have one thing.”
Morales leaned closer.
“What?”
“Vale uses storage lockers.”
My eyes narrowed.
“Where?”
“Different places.”
“Specifics.”
“One near the airport. One west side. Maybe another north.”
“Names?”
Connor rattled off two facilities.
Morales wrote them down.
“How do you know?”
“I paid for one.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
“For what?”
“Files.”
“What files?”
“Mine.”
“Did you remove them?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Vale said they were insurance.”
I looked at Kenneth.
He mouthed, That tracks.
“Connor, listen to me. Tell police exactly where you are.”
“No.”
“You’re running out of ways to make this worse.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“It’s accurate.”
His breathing became uneven.
Then he said, “There’s something Melinda hasn’t told you.”
My stomach tightened.
“That could describe half this week.”
“Ask her about Chicago.”
“What happened in Chicago?”
“Ask her.”
“When?”
“The summer she got pregnant.”
“Was it the hotel?”
“Yes.”
“Who was there?”
“I don’t know.”
“You do.”
“I know who arranged the room.”
“Who?”
Connor paused.
Then said, “Walter.”
The name landed strangely.
I looked toward Kenneth.
He frowned.
“Your father arranged Melinda’s hotel room?”
“Through one of his companies.”
“Why?”
“I never figured it out.”
“Did Walter know Melinda then?”
“He said he didn't.”
“But you didn't believe him.”
“No.”
My thoughts moved quickly.
Walter had known about Melinda's earlier pregnancy through Vale.
He claimed he had not known about the affair until later.
Yet Connor now said a Fleming company booked a hotel room for Melinda during Noah’s conception window.
“Which company?”
“Fleming Hospitality Services.”
Kenneth wrote it down.
“That could be routine corporate travel.”
“Melinda didn't work for us.”
“So who booked it?”
“I never found the employee authorization.”
“Vale did?”
“He said the record disappeared.”
The phrase made me cold.
Records disappeared.
Reports were forged.
Money moved through shells.
Every time reality threatened someone in the Fleming orbit, documentation somehow became negotiable.
“Did Walter know about the booking when you asked?”
“He said no.”
“Did you believe him?”
“At first.”
“What changed?”
“Vale showed me an internal approval code.”
“What code?”
“My father's.”
The room fell silent.
“Walter personally approved the room?”
“According to Vale.”
“Did you confront him?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“That codes get used by assistants.”
“Was that true?”
“Sometimes.”
“So you still had no proof.”
“No.”
“Then why mention it now?”
“Because if Vale was paid to follow Melinda recently, Walter is one of the few people who could afford to keep him working without me knowing.”
That was true.
It did not mean Walter had.
“What would Walter gain?”
“I don't know.”
“Then this is suspicion.”
“Yes.”
That honesty made it harder to dismiss.
Morales motioned that they had enough location data to act.
I needed to keep Connor talking.
“What happened in Chicago?”
“I told you. Ask Melinda.”
“I’m asking you.”
Connor breathed out.
“She disappeared for two nights.”
“While you were together?”
“Sort of.”
“Were you still married to me?”
“Yes.”
“Of course.”
He ignored that.
“She told me she had a work conference.”
“Did she?”
“There was a conference.”
“But?”
“Her employer says she wasn't registered.”
“Did you learn that then?”
“No. Vale found out after Noah was born.”
“And the hotel reservation placed her there.”
“Yes.”
“With someone else.”
“Probably.”
“Do you have surveillance footage?”
“No.”
“Receipts?”
“One restaurant charge.”
“Two people?”
“Yes.”
“Names?”
“No.”
“Anything else?”
“A room-service order.”
“For?”
“Two breakfasts.”
Not proof.
But enough to sustain obsession.
“Did you ever ask Melinda directly?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“That she went alone.”
“Then why two breakfasts?”
“She said she ordered too much.”
I almost smiled despite myself.
A bad lie did not identify a father.
It only proved fear.
Morales passed me another note.
TRACE COMPLETE.
LOCATION LIKELY UNION STATION AREA.
I kept my face neutral.
“Connor, why did you really call me?”
A pause.
“I wanted to hear your voice.”
That answer caught me off guard.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know what happens next.”
“You turn yourself in.”
“That isn’t what I mean.”
“Then what?”
“After.”
For the first time, Connor sounded small.
“What happens to Noah?”
“That depends on the court, Melinda, biological paternity and your legal status.”
“So nothing.”
“It means nobody can promise you an outcome.”
“I raised him.”
“I know.”
“He calls me Da.”
My throat tightened.
“I know.”
“What happens if Gabriel isn't the father?”
“Then the court keeps looking at the evidence.”
“And if nobody knows?”
“Then legal parentage is still something lawyers and judges handle.”
“I don't want strangers deciding whether I'm his father.”
“You made strangers necessary when you forged evidence.”
He went quiet.
The truth hurt because it was clean.
“Kirsten.”
“Yes?”
“If the test had said Noah was mine, do you think I would have told you about my diagnosis?”
I stared at the wall.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you would have decided the diagnosis no longer mattered.”
Silence.
“You do know me.”
“I did.”
Another train horn echoed through the phone.
Then, faintly, an announcement.
Morales’s head snapped up.
Union Station.
He was already moving toward the door.
I asked, “Are you inside a station?”
Connor stopped breathing.
Then the call disconnected.
Morales ran.
Kenneth and I remained inside the room.
For twelve minutes, nothing happened.
Then nineteen.
Then twenty-six.
I stared at my phone until the screen dimmed.
At thirty-two minutes, Morales called.
“We found the phone.”
My heart sank.
“Not Connor.”
“No.”
“Where?”
“Trash receptacle outside Union Station.”
“So he knew you were tracing him.”
“Likely.”
“Camera footage?”
“Reviewing.”
“Any sign he boarded a train?”
“Not yet.”
Kenneth rubbed his forehead.
“Connor bought himself time.”
Morales agreed.
“Possibly.”
After the call, Kenneth drove me back to the apartment.
Neither of us spoke much.
At 2:14 in the morning, my phone rang again.
Melinda.
I answered immediately.
“Kirsten?”
Her voice was barely audible.
“What happened?”
“My attorney just called.”
“What?”
“Gabriel’s lawyer submitted a request to suspend the paternity action.”
I sat up.
“Why?”
“Because Gabriel received something.”
“What?”
“A copy of the real test.”
My pulse accelerated.
“The one excluding him?”
“Yes.”
“From whom?”
“They don't know.”
“Does it look authentic?”
“His lawyer says they’re verifying.”
I swung my feet to the floor.
“Melinda.”
“I know.”
“No. Listen to me. If Connor and Gabriel are both excluded, you need to tell your attorney every person who could possibly be Noah’s father.”
She began crying.
“There isn't anyone else.”
I closed my eyes.
“Chicago.”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Then I knew.
“Connor told me.”
She whispered, “He promised.”
“Who promised?”
No answer.
“Melinda.”
“I can't.”
“You have to.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
Her voice broke.
“Because he was married.”
I said nothing.
“Who?”
More silence.
Then:
“And because if I tell you, Walter will destroy him.”
That narrowed nothing and everything.
“Who is he?”
Melinda began sobbing.
“Kirsten, I swear I didn't know who he was when we met.”
“Who?”
“He used a different name.”
My skin prickled.
“What name?”
“Daniel.”
“And his real name?”
She could barely force the words out.
“Ethan Fleming.”
I stood.
Walter had only one younger brother.
Ethan.
Connor’s uncle.
Noah’s possible biological father was not outside the Fleming family at all.
He was inside it.
