He put his secure laptop aside and pulled up his email on his primary computer. As Renee spoke, he flipped through the pictures of an upper-middle-class home on a large parcel just outside of the city. There were also pictures of a woman and a boy. The woman was pretty in a simple way—long dark hair, balanced face, good bone structure. She was young—mid to late twenties.
“The woman is Darlene Hatcher, twenty-six. The boy is hers, Bobby. He’ll be eight this summer. No father in the picture—no marriage license, no court-ordered child support, no custody agreement on record. I sent you his birth certificate. No father was listed. But, I did a little digging. The residence Darlene put on the birth certificate doesn’t exist.”
“She’s in hiding.”
“Possibly.”
“But look at the certificate.”
Sean scrolled through the documents. Renee had taken a picture of the birth certificate. Name, address, mother’s maiden name …
“Jefferson.”
“Bingo.”
Darlene hadn’t put her father down on the birth certificate, either. Was she Mona’s younger sister? It made sense in a strange way.
He looked back at Darlene’s picture. She was Caucasian, like Mona’s mother. But as he studied the bone structure, he saw that even though Mona was of mixed race, they had the same basic facial shape and the same green eyes.
“What does Darlene do for a living?”
“She’s a teacher. Went to college a little late, graduated last year with a master’s in early childhood education. Teaches kindergarten.”
Sean tried to process all the information. Mona had a half sister. She was paying for her to live well, while Mona, a former porn star, ran a prostitution ring in San Antonio. There had to be more to it.
“And I know exactly what you’re thinking, Sean. So I went there.”
“Went where?”
“To the school. Sniffed around. I can act the sweet little ole granny when I need to.”
He laughed. “I’d like to see that.”
“You’ll have to pay me extra. Well, there’s more to this story. Darlene listed on her employment forms that she has no family, that her parents are deceased and she has no living siblings. I then thought … how did Ramona Jefferson just disappear?”
“Mona stopped using her real identity and created a new one.”
“Yes—but eight years ago, a month before the house was purchased, Ramona Jefferson died.”
Sean’s heart skipped a beat. “For real?”
“No. On paper only. I swear, you owe me big-time because I could have lost my PI license.”
“You’re retired.”
“Well, I still have my license. It doesn’t expire until the end of the year.”
“So?”
“There’s a death certificate filed in Los Angeles County, California, for Ramona Jefferson. But it’s a forgery.”
It took Sean a minute to process that. “You mean that Mona inserted a death certificate into the system? How the hell?”
“Oh, I’m sure you could find a way.”
“That’s me.”
“If someone pulled it, it wouldn’t hold scrutiny. There was no body, no police report, no burial. But on the surface, it seems legit. So I went to Darlene’s neighborhood this morning, after she left with her son, and through one of her nosy neighbors I learned that Darlene’s older sister died and left her a trust, which paid for the house and her college education.”
Very interesting.
“There’s one more thing you should know.”
“I’m still processing everything you’ve already told me.”
“Everything you told me about Mona’s family was true—her mother was a drug addict, petty theft, drug sales. A real waste case. In and out of prison. The kids, Ramona and Darlene, were often left on their own for days or weeks, but when their mother went to prison for three years, when Darlene was four, Darlene was put into foster care and had a rough time. Records are closed, but I have my ways. Ramona, then thirteen, disappeared. The mom got out, reclaimed Darlene, and proceeded to go down the same path. Ramona may or may not have been around—I’d have to dig a little more. But a friend of mine, a retired cop who worked that beat, said the mom was a piece of work. Used the kid as a mule. The mom overdosed a couple years later—and it was nasty, from what the reports show. I can’t get you a copy because my contact at HPD was squeamish about sharing. But Darlene was then sent back to foster care. Lucky for her, she got in with a good family, the Hatchers. She legally changed her name when she was eighteen.”
“And what about the boy’s father?”
“Nothing. I could probably dig around some more, but she was eighteen when she had him. That makes me think that it was a high school romance.”
“Don’t dig. Yet. But if you can send me what you know about the Hatchers, I’ll consider following up if I need to.”
“The girl had it rough growing up, but she seems to have her life in order now. It’s not easy being a single mom, but she’s never had to worry about money or a place to live, which makes it a whole lot easier. She goes to church on Sunday and the kid plays baseball and has friends. They seem very normal.”
Sean didn’t want to disrupt their lives.
But Mona Hill had threatened Lucy.
“What are you going to do?”