No photographs online.
No attempt to change custody until a family attorney and therapist reviewed everything.
Elena agreed to every condition.
Then added one.
“What?”
Jack asked.
“I want independent counsel for Sophie.”
Jack stared.
“She’s seven.”
“I know.”
“She doesn’t need a lawyer.”
“She deserves somebody whose only responsibility is her.”
Jack looked at Elena differently.
“Not yours.”
“No.”
“Not mine.”
“No.”
“Sophie’s.”
“Yes.”
Jack nodded.
“Okay.”
The next week became surreal.
Federal attorneys contacted Jack.
Then investigators.
Then a woman from the Department of Justice Office of Professional Responsibility.
The documents were real.
Thomas Keane had been a deputy marshal assigned to Elena’s protective relocation.
He had accepted money from an intermediary connected to Rourke.
At first he sold travel information.
Later, when Elena became too important to kill without attracting federal attention, he found another way to neutralize her.
Isolation.
He forged communications from Jack.
Intercepted Elena’s letters.
Created documents suggesting Jack wanted no contact.
He also arranged the letter sent to Jack claiming Elena had voluntarily abandoned the family.
The forged custody papers were sophisticated enough to fool Elena because she had no direct access to local court systems under her protected status.
By the time the federal network suspected corruption, Keane had transferred.
Years passed.
The original Rourke case continued through appeals and related indictments.
Elena remained protected.
She asked repeatedly whether she could contact Sophie.
Keane’s replacements saw documents showing Jack had requested permanent non-contact.
No one questioned them.
Systems trusted systems.
That was the part that made Jack angriest.
Not only Keane.
The machinery around him.
A lie entered one database.
Then everyone treated it as fact because someone else already had.
Jack asked the federal attorney a question.
“How many people looked at this?”
The woman hesitated.
“Over seven years?”
“Yes.”
“Several.”
“How many called me?”
Silence.
“Exactly.”
Elena sat beside him during the meeting.
She said nothing.
Afterward, Jack drove home alone.
She returned to the house across the street.
He sat in his garage until midnight.
At some point Sophie came out wearing pajamas.
She sat beside him.
“You okay?”
“No.”
She nodded.
“Me neither.”
Jack looked at her.
She held Bunny under one arm.
“Do I have to like her?”
“No.”
“Do I have to love her?”
“No.”
“Do I have to call her Mom?”
“No.”
Sophie looked relieved.
Jack continued.
“You can feel anything.”
“What if I don’t know?”
“That counts.”
She leaned against him.
“Do you love her?”
Jack’s chest tightened.
“That’s complicated.”
“Means yes.”
He laughed softly.
“You’re seven.”
“You say complicated when something is yes but annoying.”
Jack stared.
She was right.
That was deeply inconvenient.
“I loved her once.”
Sophie looked toward the dark window across the street.
“Do you now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can grown-ups not know?”
“Constantly.”
Sophie nodded.
“That’s disappointing.”
“Tell me about it.”