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flanked by his senior legal team. They would deliver whatever news they carried with the precision of laser-guided bombs, study his reaction, then depart to measure and prepare the next skirmish. Maximum damage with minimum exposure. Appellate court cases were the modern-day equivalent of the Hundred Years’ War.
    But when he entered the conference room, he was confronted by the astonishing sight of a single man.
    Dale Steadman sat so that he could stare out the open window, where the diminishing rain chimed and rustled. Kirsten sat beside him, angled so that she could observe both the guest and the day. Marcus’ tread sounded loud as drumbeats as he approached his new adversary. “Mr. Steadman?”
    “That’s right.” Dale Steadman rose and shook Marcus’ hand, revealing a fighter’s bulk beneath his tailored navy suit. “Thanks for seeing me.”
    “As we have repeatedly informed your attorneys, I have turned over the New Horizons case to the firm of Drews and Howe. What you see here is my entire practice. We’re not equipped to manage an appellate battle.”
    His guest turned back to the open window, as though the reason for his visit was to be found in birdsong and rain-lashed wind. “I don’t recognize these trees you’re putting in here.”
    “Crepe myrtle.” Marcus slid into his seat. “They replace a giant elm your lackeys destroyed when they tried to burn down my house.”
    Kirsten leaned forward and said, “Repeat for Mr. Glenwood what you just told me.”
    Marcus studied Kirsten’s face. Her sympathetic tone was jarring. New Horizons had kidnapped and murdered her best friend. If asked, Marcus would have said their new CEO would never draw anything from her save loathing.
    “My ex-wife has stolen my baby girl. We’ve been divorced seven months.”
    Netty entered and began pouring coffee. When Marcus remained silent, Kirsten asked, “Your ex-wife has abducted your child?”
    “Three weeks ago.”
    “You have custody?”
    “That’s right.”
    “And your ex-wife?”
    “She never showed any interest in Celeste until the publicity started.”
    Marcus continued to watch his fiancée, wondering how she could be so captivated by a tale that to him made no sense whatsoever. Kirsten asked, “What publicity?”
    “My ex-wife is Erin Brandt.”
    “I’ve heard that name.”
    “She’s an internationally famous opera star. A soprano. Sings all over the world.” Dale Steadman uttered the words with the steady toll of a funeral bell. “Erin tried to keep our divorce a secret. But the European press found out somehow. There was a spate of articles.”
    “How long ago was that?”
    “Five months.”
    “What does Ms. Brandt have to say about these allegations?”
    “I haven’t had contact with Erin since she stole Celeste. I kept hoping all this would work itself out. It’s insane, I know. I’ve known it all along.”
    Kirsten glanced at Marcus, offering him the chance to take over. When he remained silent, she continued, “You haven’t contacted the authorities up to now?”
    “Three days after the fire, I heard from her lawyer. A spiteful Raleigh man by the name of Hamper Caisse. The lawyer said that if I made any move at all, they would convene a court hearing to revealhow drunk I was the night of the fire.” The man spoke with the disjointed precision of addressing internal ghosts. “They’ll call witnesses from the fire department and the police. They will have people from my community reveal how my drinking has been a matter of concern. They will question how such a man could possibly be left with responsibility for a baby. He said if I’m willing to work things out amicably, then I need to show some patience.”
    “But you think this offer is a lie?”
    “Totally.”
    “You are saying your former wife has abducted your child and now seeks to mask the fact through false representation?”
    “That’s it exactly.”
    “Why?”
    “Excuse me?”
    “You said she didn’t care for