It was a grainy image from what looked like a professional directory. A woman in her late forties, dark hair cut to her chin, silver glasses, polite smile.
My stomach tightened.
“Dana Morales,” Kenneth said. “Former administrative coordinator at the fertility clinic. She left shortly after the merger.”
“I remember her.”
“She currently works as an independent patient advocate.”
“Is that legal?”
“Yes, if done properly. But she also appears to have a small consulting company. Connor’s business paid that company twenty-five thousand dollars around the same time the release documents were processed.”
I stared at the photo.
Lavender perfume.
Silver glasses.
A kind voice on the phone.
Mrs. Fleming, I know this process is hard. We’ll take good care of everything.
I had believed her.
“Why would she do it?” I asked.
“Money, perhaps. Loyalty to Connor. Pressure. We don’t know.”
I picked up the photo.
