Page 140 of The Advocate’s Ultimatum

“No clue.”

JP photographed every receipt with permission the boy had no authority to give. Then he looked at the date range again. A year here. Before that, somewhere else. And always paying rent on time. Always moving. But this time, he’d only left with one of the girls. JP still hoped to find the other.

Chapter 52

Saturday morning

JP had learned long ago that people rarely vanished. They changed names. Changed states. Changed husbands, habits, hairstyles, politics, churches, drinking schedules, and stories. But most people did not vanish. They merely moved beyond the patience of whoever was looking.

He started with Rochelle Caldwell. Marriage records first. Then divorce filings. Then property tax rolls. Then professional licensing.

Over the course of three hours and two cups of coffee, Rochelle Caldwell had become Rochelle Dalton, then Rochelle Johnson, then after a second divorce simply Rochelle Dalton again.

She lived in Eugene, Oregon for a few years, then Portland, Maine. Then a coastal town farther north that JP had never heard of and suspected no one bragged about visiting in winter.

Her current employment was as Director of Nursing Services, Harbor Pines Senior Living. She had competent, responsible work, not the profile of a woman secretly raising a kidnapped child long term.

He dug deeper, but found no juvenile names, guardianship filings, or school registrations linked to her residence. He checked for dependent records or traces of a hidden daughter that favored Hannah, but got nothing. That didn’t clear her completely, but it moved the needle.

He called Harbor Pines and asked for Ms. Dalton. After being transferred twice, a woman answered in a voice worn smooth by decades of dealing with frightened families and stubborn doctors. “This is Rochelle.”

“Ms. Dalton, my name is JP Torn. I’m a private investigator in California.”

Silence for a second, then, “Is this about Hannah?”

“Yes.”

“I always knew one day the phone would ring.”

“Do you have a moment?”

“For Hannah, I have all the moments you need.”

JP liked her immediately and distrusted that instinct on principle.

“I’m reviewing the old case, and—”

Rochelle interrupted him. “You haven’t found her?”

“No.”

She sighed with relief. “I thought you were calling to say she was dead. As long as I don’t get that call, I can pray that she’s still alive and well.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I know.”

“I’d like to ask about the family.”

She sighed. “You mean the wreckage?”

“Start where you’d like.”

“My brother, Marcus,” she said instantly. Bitterness sharpened the words. “A selfish, angry man who treated responsibility like an allergy.”

“Was he violent?”

“When it suited him.”