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with enough money to pay a year's salary for a painting of a fountain. “What did James do for a living?”
    “Nothing…I mean he occasionally traded stocks online.”
    “All this from the occasional stock trade?”
    “He never talked about how he made his money. He was kind of secretive that way. Is that what this is about?”
    “Can I see the letters, please?”
    Ianna sat on the couch, opened the box, and handed the documents to Alexander. He returned to the love seat and flipped through the letters from William Putnam to James, looking for the dates. As he suspected, there were no letters after October 2001. “Do you mind if I take these with me?”
    “Sure, you can have them,” she said. “Now do you want to tell me why you're here?”
    Alexander leaned forward so that he could watch her reaction. “Miss Markova—”
    “Please call me Ianna.”
    “Ianna, the man you knew as James Putnam was an imposter. I believe that he stole the identity of the real James Putnam back in 2001 and has been living under that false identity ever since.”
    Ianna didn't move at first; her whole body seemed frozen by what Alexander had said. It seemed as though she was waiting for the words to form a pattern that might make sense. “That's impossible.” She shook her head. “That's just crazy. I know James Putnam. What you're saying can't be true.”
    “Those letters you found…they're letters that William Putnam sent to his brother, James—the real James.”
    Alexander reached into his pocket and showed Ianna the MySpace photo. She gazed at it with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. Alexander continued. “This man is the real James Putnam. But in November of 2001, a new James Putnam appeared in the records. This new James is the man you knew.”
    “If he wasn't James Putnam, then who was he?”
    “I'm trying to figure that out.”
    “This makes no sense.”
    “Have you ever seen that man in the picture before?”
    “No.”
    “Did James ever mention anything from his past? Any clue who he might have been.”
    “He was James Putnam. I never…I mean it never occurred to me.”
    “He ever talk about his life, maybe a childhood friend or relative?”
    “He said he grew up in Brooklyn…and that his parents died when he was in high school.” She put the photo down and thought for a minute, then said. “I'm sorry, Detective. I know it makes me sound like an idiot—some dumb blond—but I don't remember him saying anything about his past. I just figured something bad happened, and he wanted to keep it buried. This is unreal. I can't think of anything that would explain…”
    Alexander pulled out a card with his name and number on it and gave it to Ianna. “This can't be easy for you. I would really appreciate it if you would think back on your conversations with James, and if anything pops into your head, give me a call.”
    “Sure,” she said.
    “I just have one more thing.”
    “I'm almost afraid to ask.”
    Alexander pointed at the office. “I'd like to get a copy of the hard drive off of that computer in there. Would that be okay?”
    “The hard drive?”
    “If the man you knew as James Putnam kept any ties to his past life, he might have left a clue on his computer.”
    “You want to take the computer?”
    “No, I can make a copy of the hard drive.” Alexander pulled a computer-data-collection kit from the pocket of his jacket, a package slightly larger than a wallet. “With this I can create an exact duplicate of the computer's hard drive.”
    “Shouldn't you have a search warrant or something?”
    “Not if you give me your consent. I could go get a search warrant if you prefer.”
    “No, that's okay,” she said. “It's just that…”
    “What?”
    “There may be some pictures of me on there…you know…personal pictures.”
    Alexander looked at her with reassuring eyes, a mask he'd worn many times working undercover. “I'm not looking for pictures. I want to see if there's anything on