Harlan Coben - The Innocent

"Guess what we found on your office computer?" Loren asked.

Cingle blinked. But it was enough. She knew. Loren took out the photograph of Charles Talley. She also took out a few choice stills from the video. She put them on the table in front of Cingle. Cingle barely glanced at them.

"I'm not talking," Cingle said.

"Would you nod?"

"What?"

"I'll start talking. You can nod along if you like. Because I think it's all pretty obvious now." Loren sat down, folded her hands, and put them on the table. "Our lab guys said these photographs came from a camera phone. So here is how we figured it played out. Charles Talley was a bit of a sicko. We know that. He has a criminal history rather rich in violence and perversion. Anyway, he meets up with Olivia Hunter. I don't know how yet. Maybe you'll tell us when your lawyer arrives. Doesn't matter. Either way, for whatever sick reasons, he gets off on sending a photograph and video to our mutual bud Matt Hunter. Matt brings the pictures to you. You, because you're good at what you do, find out that the guy in the pictures is Charles Talley and that he is currently staying at the Howard Johnson's by Newark Airport. Or maybe you figure out that Olivia Hunter is staying there. I don't know which."

Cingle said, "That's not right."

"But it's close. I don't know the details, and I don't really care why or how Hunter came to you. What is clear is that he did. That he gave you the picture and the video. That you found Charles Talley. That you both drove to confront him at the hotel. That Talley and Hunter got into a fight. That Hunter ended up injured and that Talley ended up dead."

Cingle looked away.

"You have something to add?" Loren asked.

Loren's cell phone rang again. She pulled it out, flipped it open, and said, "Hello."

"It's your friendly neighborhood Lance."

"What's up?"

"Guess where I am."

"In front of Marsha Hunter's house?"

"Bingo. Now guess whose car is parked in her driveway."

Loren straightened up. "You call for backup?"

"They're on their way."

She snapped the phone closed. Cingle's eyes were on her.

"That about Matt?"

Loren nodded. "We're about to arrest him."

"He's going to freak."

Loren shrugged, waited.

Cingle bit down on a fingernail. "You got it wrong."

"How's that?"

"You think Charles Talley sent those pictures to Matt."

"He didn't?"

Cingle shook her head very slowly.

"Then who did?"

"Good question."

Loren sat back. She thought about the photograph, the one of Charles Talley. He had his hand up, almost as if he were embarrassed to have the picture taken. He hadn't shot that picture of himself.

"Doesn't matter. We'll have Matt in custody in a few minutes."

Cingle stood. She began to pace. She folded her arms. "Maybe," she started again, "the pictures are a big setup."

"What?"

"Come on, Loren. Use your head here. Don't you think this is all a little too neat?"

"Most murder cases are."

"Bull."

"You find a dead man, you check his love life. You find a dead woman, you check her boyfriend or husband. It's usually just that simple."

"Except Charles Talley wasn't Olivia Hunter's boyfriend."

"And you figured that out how?"

"I didn't figure it out. Matt did."

"I'm still waiting for the how."

"Because the pictures are fakes."

Loren opened her mouth, closed it, decided to wait her out.

"That's why Matt came to my office tonight. He wanted to blow up the pictures. He realized that they weren't what they appeared to be. He figured it out when it started to rain."

Loren leaned back and spread her hands. "You better explain from the beginning."

Cingle grabbed the photograph of Charles Talley. "Okay, see the window here, the way the sun shines through it…?"

LANCE BANNER'S CAR stayed parked across the street from Marsha's house.

"You know him?" Olivia asked Matt.

"Yes. We went to school together. He's a cop here in town."

"He's here to ask about the assault?"

Matt did not reply. That made sense, he guessed. What with Cingle's arrest, the police probably wanted to file a full report. Or maybe Matt's name, as a victim or a witness, had gone out over a police radio and Lance had seen it. Maybe this was simply more harassment.

Either way, it really wasn't a big deal. If Lance came to the door, Matt would send him away. That was his right. They couldn't arrest a victim for not filing a timely report.

"Matt?"

He turned toward Olivia. "You were saying that they didn't find you. That you found them."

"Yes."

"I'm not sure I follow."

"That's because this is the most difficult part," Olivia said.

He thought- no, hoped- that she was joking. He was trying to hold on, trying to compartmentalize, rationalize, or just plain block.

"I told a lot of lies," she said. "But this last one is the worst."

Matt stayed by the window.

"I became Olivia Hunter. I told you that already. Candace Potter was dead to me. Except… except there was one part of her I could never quite give up."

She stopped.

"What is it?" Matt asked in a soft voice.

"When I was fifteen I got pregnant."

He closed his eyes.

"I was so scared, I hid it until it was too late. When my water broke, my foster mother brought me to a doctor's office. They had me sign a bunch of papers. There was a payment made, I don't know how much. I never saw the money. The doctor put me under. I had the baby. When I woke up…"

Her voice tailed off. She sort of shrugged it away and said: "I never even knew if it was a boy or a girl."

Matt kept his eyes on Lance's car. He felt something at his core rip away. "What about the father?"

"He ran off when he heard I was pregnant. Broke my heart. He got killed in a car crash a couple of years later."

"And you never knew what happened to the baby?"

"Never. Not a word. And in many ways I was okay with that. Even if I wanted to interfere in her life, I couldn't- not with my predicament. But that doesn't mean I didn't care. Or wonder what happened to her."

There was a moment of silence. Matt turned and faced his wife.

"You said 'her.' "

"What?"

"Just now. First you said you didn't know if it was a boy or girl. Then you said you didn't want to interfere in her life and that you wondered what happened to her ."

Olivia said nothing.

"How long have you known you had a girl?"

"Just a few days."

"How did you find out?"

Olivia took out another sheet of paper. "Do you know anything about online adoption support groups?"

"No, not really."

"There are these boards where adoptive kids can post looking for their biological parents and vice versa. I always checked. Just out of curiosity. I never thought I'd find anything. Candace Potter was long dead. Even if her child searched for her biological mother, she'd learn that and give up. Besides, I couldn't say anything anyway. I had my pact. Finding me could only bring my child harm."

"But you checked the boards anyway?"

"Yes."

"How often?"

"Does that matter, Matt?"

"I guess not."

"You don't understand why I did it?"

"No, I do," he said, though he was not sure if that was the truth. "So what happened?"

Olivia handed him the sheet of paper. "I found this post."

The paper was wrinkled and had clearly been opened and closed many times. The date on the top was from four weeks ago. It read:

This is an urgent message and must be kept in strict confidence. Our daughter was adopted eighteen years ago at the office of Dr. Eric Tequesta in Meridian, Idaho, on February 12th. The birth mother's name is Candace Potter, who is deceased. We have no information on the father.