Chapter 6: The Name on the Form
The daycare director was a small, precise woman named Mrs.
Okafor who had been running the Flatbush Avenue center for nineteen years and did not rattle easily.
She rattled now.
"I don't understand," she said, standing behind her desk with the enrollment folder open in front of her.
It was past eleven at night and she had come back in personally when Vincent's call made clear this could not wait until morning.
"The form was filled out when Lily started.
I processed it myself."
Adrian stood across the desk from her.
"What name is on the emergency contact line?"
Mrs.
Okafor turned the form toward him.
Emergency contact: Adrian Moretti.
Relationship: Father.
Adrian stared at it.
He had never filled out that form.
He had never been inside this building before tonight.
"Who brought Lily in on her first day?" he said.
"Her mother.
Sarah." Mrs.
Okafor hesitated.
"But the form — the father's section was already completed when Sarah handed it in.
I assumed she'd filled it out at home."
He pulled out his phone and called Sarah.
She answered on the second ring, her voice tight with the particular tension of someone who has been sitting awake waiting.
"The enrollment form at the daycare," he said.
"The father's section.
Did you fill that out?"
A pause.
"No," Sarah said.
"I left it blank.
I didn't know what to put."
"It has my full name on it.
My real name."
Another pause, longer.
"Adrian, I swear to you—"
"I believe you." He did.
"Someone else filled it in.
Someone who knew her name, knew the daycare, and knew mine." He looked at Mrs.
Okafor.
"When did Lily start here?"
"Fourteen months ago."
Fourteen months.
Long before the port contract dispute.
Long before the sh00ting.
Someone had placed his name on that form fourteen months ago, which meant someone had known about Lily fourteen months ago — and had chosen, deliberately, to create a paper trail connecting him to her.
Not Volkov.
Volkov had only found the house six weeks ago.
Someone else had known first.
"I need the name of every person who has had administrative access to these files," Adrian said to Mrs.
Okafor.
"Staff, substitutes, anyone who's done maintenance on your filing system, any external party who has ever requested records from this center."
Mrs.
Okafor sat down.
She looked like a woman recalculating everything she thought she knew about the families in her care.
"There was an audit," she said slowly.
"Eight months ago.
A man from the city's childcare licensing office.
He reviewed all our files." She opened a desk drawer, pulled out a contact log.
"He signed in.
I have his name."
She turned the log toward Adrian.
The name on the line was a city official's name — but the signature beside it was wrong.
Adrian had seen that signature before, on documents that had crossed his desk in a completely different context.
It belonged to a man named Caruso.
Marcus Caruso.
His own organization's accountant.
Vincent, standing in the doorway behind him, went very still.
"Boss," Vincent said.
"I see it."
"Marcus has had access to your personal files for six years."
"I know."
"He would have known about Sarah.
About the pregnancy.
He handles the accounts that fund the protection detail."
"I know, Vincent." Adrian closed the contact log.
He handed it back to Mrs.
Okafor.
"Lock your files.
Don't speak to anyone about this conversation.
I'll have someone here in the morning to discuss additional security for the center."
He walked out into the November night.
Vincent followed.
"Marcus," Vincent said.
"Why?
What does he get from putting your name on that form?"
"I don't know yet." Adrian looked up at the dark street.
"But someone paid him to create that paper trail.
And whoever paid him wanted a connection between me and Lily to exist in a document — something official, something that could be found."
"Volkov?"
"Maybe.
Or someone who wanted Volkov to find it." He turned toward the car.
"I need to talk to Marcus.
Tonight."
"He'll run if he knows we're coming."
"Then we don't let him know we're coming."
His phone buzzed.
A text from a number he didn't recognize.
*You found the form.
Good.
There's more.
Don't trust Vincent.*
Adrian's hand tightened on the phone.
May you like
He did not look at Vincent.
He put the phone in his pocket and got in the car.
