Her gaze zeroed in on Paula, sharp with fury. “I knew it. You’re here. Of course you are.” Then she turned on her father, her voice scathing. “You’re so stupid to fall for her act. Can’t you see she’s guilty? She’s the one who took Harris.”
Randall stiffened, his jaw tightening. “No. I don’t believe that, Anais.” His tone was calm, too calm, and Isla could almost hear the effort it cost him.
Anais’s eyes flashed hotter. “Paula’s using you. She’s always used you. She’s just trying to make herself look innocent and team up with you to point the finger at Mom.”
Randall lifted his hands in a gesture of restraint. “I don’t believe your mother took Harris either.”
For the first time since Anais stormed in, Paula’s expression faltered. Her lips pressed together, her silence loud as thunder. She didn’t add her voice to Randall’s. She didn’t deny that Leah might have taken Harris.
And that silence, Isla thought, spoke volumes.
Anais’s face was flushed with the kind of conviction that came from fury. She yanked out her phone, pulled up a grainy image, and all but shoved it toward Garrett and Isla.
“I know it’s her,” Anais said, stabbing a finger at Paula. “After I got the drone footage, I didn’t just run the image of the man. I ran Paula’s face through the lab’s system and searched every variation I could find, going back years. That’s when it flagged a match to an alias. An alias, Marion Cole, who has ties to a P.O. box in San Antonio. Twenty-two years ago there were shipments linked to that box, baby clothes and formula. What else could that mean but her?”
Isla leaned in, taking the phone, scanning the results. “Facial recognition can be wrong, Anais. Especially with grainy images. False positives happen all the time.”
Anais shook her head fiercely. “Not this time. The system cross-referenced it with archived social profiles. All signs point back to Paula.”
Randall’s brow furrowed, confusion in every line of his face. He turned to Paula as if silently begging for an explanation.
Paula’s lips parted, but no words came. Then she shook her head, eyes shining with tears. “I have never—never—gone by that name. I don’t know anything about a PO box or baby supplies.”
Anais’s voice broke as she snapped back, “You stole my brother. You have been hiding him for over two decades, andnow you’re trying to make my dad believe you instead of his own family.”
The room grew taut, like a wire pulled too tight. Isla held her breath, her gaze shifting between the fire in Anais’s eyes, the stunned look on Randall’s face, and Paula’s trembling denial.
And deep in her gut, Isla knew the evidence was damning enough to shake anyone. But just as quickly, her instincts whispered another truth. The alias could just as easily be a setup. Someone wanted Paula to look guilty.
Isla felt her breath catch at the conviction in Anais’s voice. She steadied herself and asked the obvious question. “Have you found anything on this Marian Cole since twenty-two years ago?”
Anais’s jaw tightened. “No. Nothing current. But that just proves she buried the alias deep. I’m sure Paula has a property in that name, somewhere no one would think to look. A place where she took Harris after she kidnapped him.”
Paula’s hands shook as she pressed them to her chest. “That’s a lie. I’ve never gone by that name, and I would have never taken that boy.”
Randall stepped forward, his face lined with anger and loyalty. “She’s telling the truth. Paula has been my friend for years. I would know if she was hiding something like this.”
The words only seemed to ignite Anais further. Her copper hair all but sparked as her voice rose. “You’re blind, Dad. You’re so wrapped up in her that you can’t see the truth.” Her eyes snapped to Isla and Garrett, sharp and demanding. “Find it. Prove it. If you don’t, then I’ll make her confess myself. Even if I have to kill her.”
The air turned razor-sharp in the wake of her threat. And then Anais spun on her heels and stormed out, the door slamming behind her.
Chapter Eleven
Garrett sat in his home office, the glow of his laptop screen casting pale light across the room. Early evening pressed in through the windows, the sun fading fast over the compound. After the showdown with Anais, Randall, and Paula, he and Isla had come back here to regroup, to dig.
And that’s exactly what they were doing.
The clack of Isla’s keys matched his own, a low rhythm of frustration. They’d been at it for hours, searching for anything they could find on Marian Cole. Every database they could access. Every digital trail that might still exist. And so far, all it gave them was static.
“Over fifty,” Isla muttered, scrolling with a sharp flick of her fingers. “Fifty women in Texas with that name, and not one of them connects to Harris, his family, or Paula.”
Garrett leaned back, rubbed his sore shoulder, and stared at the useless list crowding his screen. Too many damn dead ends.
He scrolled through the useless list one more time before snapping the laptop shut. “I wonder if Anais made all of this up. Maybe pointing the finger at Paula is just her way of covering for her parents.”
Isla stopped typing and sat back, obviously giving that some thought. “I agree. Yes, twenty-two years ago there was a woman named Marion Cole who rented a post office box, butwithout digging into things I shouldn’t touch, I can’t connect that person to Paula.” Her mouth curved in that sharp way that told him she was holding back her irritation. “So, should I go ahead and break the law?”
Garrett arched a brow at her. “Not unless you’re aiming to add orange jumpsuits to your wardrobe.”
