Page 181 of Buried Too Deep

“Hello! I’ve met a lot of new people today. I’m Ash. Who are you?”

Cora’s smile was gentle. “I’m Cora, and this is my friend, Phin. The lady behind us is Val, and Phin’s friends are in the minivan. They’re Stone and Delores. I like your dog.”

“His name is Toto.”

“That,” Cora said, “is an excellent name for a dog. My friend Phin has a service dog named SodaPop.”

Ashley giggled, a childish sound. “I like that name.”

“You know about service dogs?” Cora said.

Ashley nodded soberly. “You don’t pet them or talk to them while they’re working.”

“Yes,” Cora said. “That’s exactly right. My dog is Blue. That’s his name because he’s blue. I’ll show you pictures when we stop. We need to get moving, though. Your folks are anxious to leave.”

Ashley turned to her house, her expression sad. “We have to go.”

“Maybe you can come back soon.” Cora extended her hand, and Ashley took it. Cora led her to the family’s car, accompanied by Timothy Caulfield. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Ashley smiled. “Okay!”

Merrydale, Louisiana

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 16, 2:45 P.M.

Phin had thought the couple might have tried to lose them, but they were true to their word. Their little convoy of vehicles had left the Caulfields’ house and headed for a motel in the middle of town.

Burke had been waiting at the motel, Val having called him once they’d gotten started. Between them, they had three vehicles and six people—including Cora—to guard the Caulfields.

Cora had taken Ashley under her wing once they were in one of the motel rooms, chatting about hair and makeup and how sweet Toto the dog was. The motel had an adjoining room, and Beatrice had put Ashley in there with Toto. Ashley had a tablet loaded with movies, so she’d be okay.

Delores offered to stay with Ashley, but Beatrice politely declined, locking Ashley’s outer motel room door and putting a chair against the door.

Stone stood guard outside the doors to the two rooms, which Phin knew was far safer than a chair against the door.

“Okay,” Cora said once everyone had found a place to either sit or stand. The Caulfields were sitting against the bed’s headboard and Cora sat at the foot. Phin stood directly behind her, his hands on her shoulders, SodaPop sitting at his side.

Cora reached up and held his hand, linking their fingers. “I found records that my father left. Client records. It’s taken us a long time to break into them, so he did guard your privacy zealously. We’ve told no one else what we’ve found, so don’t worry about that. I assume my father was involved somehow in Ashley’s…birth?”

Beatrice’s smile was grim. “He was. We adopted her in a private transaction. Your father was the go-between. He found the baby, found us, made it happen. We paid him fifty thousand dollars for the mother’s expenses and medical care.”

“That was every penny we’d saved,” Timothy added. “Plus, we refinanced our house and dipped into our retirement, but he gave us Ashley and the necessary documents to make the adoption legal.”

“And his partner? Did you talk to him as well?” Cora asked.

The couple shared a puzzled glance before turning to Cora. “He didn’t have a partner,” Timothy said. “We only dealt with John Robertson. That’s the name he gave us.”

“Okay,” Cora said. “That’s odd, because he said he had a partner in the documents we found.”

Beatrice shrugged. “We only dealt with your father. He emailed us, made the ID documents, and brought us the baby just before dawn. She was just a few hours old.”

Patrick had been the one to email the clients and forge the documents, Phin thought, wondering if Patrick had used Jack’s alias to divert risk from himself. After the death of TR, Jack Elliot had become the face of their business—and the sole focus of anyone who wanted to stop them, like Alice’s husband.

Patrick was becoming more contemptible with every new thing they learned.

“How did you pay him?” Phin asked.

“Wire transfer for the deposit,” Timothy said. “We paid him half up front and the other half in cash when he brought us Ashley.”

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