a family his grandfather had secretly written about for decades.
And somewhere, locked behind a thirteen-year-old letter and the testimony of a woman no one had seen in four years, was the reason.
PART 3
The rain had strengthened by the time Adrian parked across the street from Marissa Keane’s apartment building.
For nearly ten minutes, he remained behind the wheel with both hands resting on the steering wheel, questioning every decision that had brought him there.
Following an employee home was not something Adrian Whitmore normally did.
In fact, under any ordinary circumstance, he would have considered it an unforgivable invasion of privacy.
But nothing about the afternoon felt ordinary anymore.
Daniel Keane.
The name from Marissa’s employment file had followed Adrian through every meeting after lunch.
