For the first time since the investigation began, I did not feel angry.
I felt cold.
Connor had been watching Melinda before the affair.
Before the first pregnancy.
Before he claimed confusion.
Before any of the story we had reconstructed supposedly began.
That meant something beneath everything else had started earlier.
“When?” I asked.
Melinda sniffed quietly on the phone.
“I don't know exactly.”
“Thomas gave you dates.”
“Yes.”
“What dates?”
“Late winter.”
Four years earlier.
I calculated.
“Connor’s first secret fertility appointment was in spring.”
“Yes.”
“Before your pregnancy.”
“Yes.”
“Before you slept together?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
That mattered.
“Why would Connor investigate you?”
“I didn't know.”
“Did Thomas?”
“He said Raymond wouldn't tell him.”
“Then what did Thomas give you?”
“Photographs.”
I looked at Morales.
His attention sharpened.
“Photographs of what?”
“Me.”
“Where?”
“Outside my office. My apartment. Restaurants.”
“Alone?”
“Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“Sometimes with Gabriel.”
So Connor knew about Gabriel before Melinda became pregnant.
Before she confessed anything.
Before he later pretended surprise.
“How long had you been seeing Gabriel?”
“About six months.”
“And Connor knew.”
“Apparently.”
“What else was in Thomas’s report?”
“Phone numbers. My schedule.”
My stomach turned.
This had not begun as jealousy after an affair.
It had begun as surveillance before one.
“Did you confront Connor?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Thomas told me not to.”
“Why?”
“He said he could learn more if Connor didn't know we had found out.”
I closed my eyes.
Everyone had been investigating everyone.
“What did Thomas learn?”
Melinda hesitated.
“Something about you.”
My attention sharpened.
“What?”
“He said Connor was worried I knew too much about your fertility treatment.”
For a moment I thought I had misunderstood.
“Why would that make him watch you?”
“Because you told me everything.”
I remembered.
The appointments.
The failed cycles.
The medications.
My suspicions that Connor was avoiding testing.
Melinda had been the person I confided in.
Connor knew that.
“He thought I might figure out the problem was his,” she said.
My pulse slowed in the way it always did when something terrible suddenly made sense.
Connor’s surveillance of Melinda had not begun because he desired her.
It began because he feared her.
“What exactly did you know then?”
“That his testing was incomplete.”
“Anything else?”
“You told me he kept canceling appointments.”
“Yes.”
“I told you I thought it was strange.”
I remembered that conversation.
We had been sitting in my kitchen.
Melinda had poured wine.
I had defended Connor.
He's embarrassed.
Give him time.
She had frowned.
Kirsten, what if he already knows something?
I had laughed.
I had forgotten that until now.
“You questioned him,” I said.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“A few weeks later.”
My stomach tightened.
“You confronted Connor about his fertility testing.”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“That I should mind my own business.”
“Then?”
“He became nice.”
The phrase was chilling in its simplicity.
“What does that mean?”
“He started calling more.”
I looked at Morales.
“Before the affair.”
“Yes.”
“He invited me to things. Asked about work. Asked about Gabriel.”
“And you thought?”
“That he was lonely.”
“Because our marriage was struggling.”
“Yes.”
That was how Connor operated.
Not always through aggression.
Sometimes through attention.
He studied what someone needed and became it.
“What happened first?”
“He asked me to lunch.”
“Romantically?”
“No.”
“What did you talk about?”
“You.”
Of course.
“He said you were pulling away.”
“That I was too focused on work.”
“Yes.”
“That fertility treatment had become an obsession.”
“Yes.”
“He was already building the story.”
Melinda started crying again.
“I believed him.”
“I know.”
Then another thought occurred.
“Why Gabriel?”
“What?”
“If Connor was watching you because of what you knew about me, why investigate Gabriel?”
“I don't know.”
“Unless he needed to know whether you could be useful.”
Silence.
“What are you saying?”
I looked through the conference-room window.
The answer was ugly.
“Connor knew he might not be able to father a child.”
Morales turned toward me.
I continued slowly.
“He knew Walter cared about descendants.”
Kenneth’s face changed.
“And he knew Melinda had a boyfriend.”
I nodded.
“A fertile alternative.”
Melinda made a choking sound.
“No.”
“I’m not saying he planned Noah.”
“Kirsten—”
“I’m saying he may have recognized that your life offered him something.”
“A child.”
“Possibly.”
She began crying harder.
“That’s monstrous.”
“Yes.”
If true.
But we still needed evidence.
I turned toward Morales.
“Does Raymond Vale have records from the earliest surveillance?”
“We haven't finished inventory.”
“Find the first invoice Connor paid him.”
Morales nodded.
Kenneth said, “And the first stated objective.”
Exactly.
If Connor had hired Vale before the affair, the reason might be documented.
Three hours later, we had an answer.
Not from Connor.
From Raymond.
He finally agreed to speak without immunity after prosecutors made clear that cooperation would affect charging decisions but guarantee nothing.
We watched through a video connection from Kenneth’s office.
Raymond Vale looked terrible.
Bruising marked one side of his face.
He seemed offended by his own vulnerability.
Morales sat across from him.
“When did Connor Fleming first hire you regarding Melinda Travis?”
Raymond thought.
“Four years ago. February.”
“Purpose?”
“To assess whether she was trustworthy.”
“For whom?”
“Connor.”
“Why?”
“Because she was close to Kirsten.”
My pulse changed.
Morales asked, “That was all?”
Raymond smiled faintly.
“No.”
“What else?”
“He wanted to know who Melinda was sleeping with.”
“Why?”
Raymond looked toward the camera.
He knew I was watching.
“Because Connor had already received his preliminary fertility results.”
I stopped breathing.
February.
Earlier than we thought.
Before the later specialist report.
Before the documented diagnosis.
“Connor already knew?” Morales asked.
“He knew enough.”
“What did he tell you?”
“That his numbers were terrible.”
“Did he mention inheritance?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“First meeting.”
Kenneth leaned forward.
The plan had begun much earlier.
Morales asked, “Why investigate Melinda’s romantic life?”
Raymond shrugged.
“Connor said if his marriage failed, he needed options.”
“Options for what?”
“A family.”
The room went silent.
Melinda’s theory became more plausible with every word.
“Did he intend to pursue Melinda romantically?”
“He didn't say.”
“What did he say?”
Raymond smiled without warmth.
“He said she trusted him.”
I felt sick.
“What else?”
“That she wanted children.”
Melinda’s voice had gone completely silent on our conference call.
“And Gabriel?” Morales asked.
“He was useful information.”
“How?”
“If Melinda became pregnant, Connor wanted to know what complications existed.”
This was not an affair spiraling into lies.
At least not entirely.
Connor had entered the relationship already treating people as variables.
Morales asked, “Did Connor ever say he planned to claim another man’s child?”
Raymond frowned.
“No.”
That mattered.
“What did he say?”
“That if the doctor was wrong and he could father a child, he needed a woman who wanted one.”
“So perhaps he believed Melinda could give him a biological child.”
“Yes.”
“Then Gabriel was a risk.”
“Yes.”
The distinction softened one possibility without making the behavior decent.
Connor may not have planned to steal another man’s child.
But he had identified Melinda as a potential route to the family status he feared losing.
“What about Kirsten?” Morales asked.
Raymond looked toward the camera again.
“Connor didn't plan to divorce her at first.”
My chest tightened.
“Then why Melinda?”
“Insurance.”
One word.
That was worse than romance.
“What did he mean?”
“If Kirsten learned about the diagnosis and left, he wanted another path.”
Kenneth muttered something under his breath.
Morales asked, “Did Connor love his wife?”
Raymond laughed quietly.
“People like Connor confuse needing someone with loving them.”
I disliked Raymond.
I also suspected he was right.
“Did he ever ask you to harm anyone during that period?”
“No.”
“Manipulate Melinda?”
“Not directly.”
“Did you help him get close to her?”
“No.”
“So Connor did that himself.”
“Yes.”
Morales changed direction.
“Tell us about Thomas.”
Raymond’s face hardened.
“My son has nothing to do with this.”
“We have footage of him following Connor before the shooting.”
Raymond went still.
“What shooting?”
Morales explained.
For the first time, Raymond looked genuinely frightened.
“Thomas didn't shoot Connor.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he wouldn't.”
“That isn't evidence.”
“No.”
“Is Thomas working for Red Marsh?”
“Yes.”
“Rebecca and Claire Fleming?”
“Yes.”
“Did you recruit him?”
“No.”
“Who?”
“Claire.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“No.”
“When did you last speak?”
“Yesterday.”
“What did he say?”
“That everything had gone too far.”
“Meaning?”
“He said Rebecca wanted to stop.”
Morales leaned forward.
“Stop what?”
“The operation.”
“What operation?”
Raymond looked at the camera.
“Breaking Walter Fleming’s control.”
Walter was watching from his own attorney’s office.
I wondered how that felt.
“What was Thomas supposed to do?”
“Collect proof. Track money. Document Connor’s fraud.”
“Violence?”
“No.”
“Anonymous threats?”
“No.”
“Then who escalated?”
Raymond stared at the table.
“I think Thomas did.”
Morales’s expression sharpened.
“Why?”
“He became obsessed.”
“With Connor?”
“With all of them.”
“Why?”
“Because Claire left him.”
“For Connor?”
“No.”
Raymond rubbed his forehead.
“Because of Connor.”
The old photographs.
The drug use.
Treatment.
“Thomas blamed Connor for losing Claire.”
“Yes.”
“And Red Marsh later put him back near her.”
“Yes.”
“That seems reckless.”
“I told Rebecca.”
“She ignored you.”
“Yes.”
“What did Thomas want?”
Raymond looked exhausted.
“He wanted Connor destroyed.”
“Financially?”
“At first.”
“And later?”
Raymond stared toward the camera.
“I don't know.”
Morales asked, “Did Thomas assault Gabriel?”
“I think so.”
“Why?”
“To make it look like Connor had escalated.”
“Did Thomas send Kirsten the threatening message?”
“Probably.”
“Photograph Melinda?”
“Yes.”
“Stage your kidnapping?”
Raymond’s jaw tightened.
“He forced me.”
Everyone in our room went still.
“How?”
“He had a gun.”
“Why?”
“To make Connor look guilty.”
“Did Connor participate voluntarily?”
“At first he thought it was theater.”
“That matches Connor’s story.”
“Yes.”
“What happened later?”
“Thomas told me the final step was Connor leaving the country.”
“And you offered the charter.”
“Yes.”
“Why cooperate?”
“Because Thomas said if I didn’t, he would expose everything I’d done.”
Morales stared at him.
“You had already committed enough crimes to be blackmailed by your own son.”
Raymond gave a tired smile.
“Yes.”
“Where is Thomas now?”
“I don't know.”
“Who does?”
Raymond hesitated.
Then said, “Claire.”
The video interview ended soon after.
My phone rang immediately.
Walter.
“What?”
His voice sounded urgent.
“Claire left.”
“When?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
“With Rebecca?”
“No.”
“Where?”
“Nobody knows.”
I looked at Morales.
He was already making calls.
Then my phone chimed.
A message from Claire.
I had never given her my number.
There was no text.
Only a photograph.
Noah sat strapped into his car seat.
Melinda was beside him.
Her eyes were wide with terror.
The next image showed Claire behind the wheel.
Then the message arrived.
Tell Connor to come alone.
My blood went cold.
A final line appeared.
He wanted a family so badly.
Now he can choose what it costs.
Click here to continue reading: PART 21: Claire Took Melinda and Noah to Force Connor Into the Open, but Her Message Concealed Who Was Actually Controlling the Abduction
The Morning My Ex-Husband Tried to Humiliate Me in a Hospital Hallway and Misread the Calm on My Face
Part 20 of 35
