Chapter 7: What Ryan Answered
Gerald Fitch had an office on the fourth floor of a building downtown, the kind of office that smelled like old paper and quiet authority.
He listened to everything without interrupting.
When I finished, he folded his hands on his desk and looked at me.
"The screenshots are timestamped and unaltered?"
"Yes.
Diane sent them directly from her phone to mine."
"And the pregnancy — no test has been done yet."
"No.
She refused."
"That refusal is itself useful." He made a note.
"Now.
What is it you want, Marcus?
I need to understand your goal before I can tell you what's possible."
"I want Maya protected.
Whatever happens with Vanessa, I want it documented that there has been a pattern of deliberate exclusion.
That it wasn't accidental."
"And the relationship itself?"
I looked at the window.
The city was gray outside, early November light, flat and honest.
"I don't know yet," I said.
"But I need to be ready."
Gerald nodded.
"Then here's what I'd recommend as a first step."
He walked me through it.
I listened.
By the time I left his office, I had a clear list of what to do and in what order.
The first thing on the list was to find out who Ryan was.
Not who Vanessa said he was.
Who he actually was.
I had a friend from college — Dennis — who worked in financial compliance and had, over the years, developed a talent for finding things that people had tried to make unfindable.
I called him from the car.
"I need a name run," I said.
"Ryan.
Vanessa's ex.
I don't have a last name yet."
"That's thin."
"I know.
Start with her social media history.
Anything she hasn't deleted."
"Give me until tomorrow morning."
"Thank you."
I drove home.
Vanessa's car was gone.
There was a note on the kitchen counter: *Staying at a friend's.
We both need space.
— V.*
Maya was in the kitchen making a sandwich.
She looked at the note, then at me.
"She left?"
"For tonight."
Maya nodded.
She cut her sandwich in half and slid one piece onto a second plate without being asked and set it on the counter near me.
I sat down.
We ate in silence for a while.
It was the most comfortable silence I'd had in months.
"Dad," she said eventually.
"Yeah."
"Did she tell you about the science fair?"
I looked at her.
"In March," Maya said.
"I got into the regional round.
Mrs.
Okafor submitted my project without telling me.
I found out two weeks ago." She looked at her plate.
"I didn't say anything because I didn't know if you'd be able to come."
"I'll be there," I said.
"Put it in my calendar yourself.
Tonight."
She looked up.
Something in her face that I recognized — the careful look — loosened a little more.
"Okay," she said.
Dennis called the next morning at seven forty-five.
"Ryan Calloway," he said.
"Thirty-four.
He and Vanessa dated for two years, ended about eight months before she met you.
Here's the interesting part — he's not just an ex.
He's listed as a co-signer on a storage unit she's been renting for the past three years.
And six weeks ago, he filed a change-of-address form.
His new address is a building four blocks from yours."
I stood at the kitchen window.
"He moved four blocks away six weeks ago," I said.
"Yes."
"She told me last night she was pregnant.
She found out three weeks ago."
Dennis was quiet for a moment.
"That's a tight window," he said.
"Yes," I said.
"It is."
I thanked him and hung up.
My phone buzzed immediately.
A text from a number I didn't recognize.
*We need to talk.
May you like
You deserve to know the truth.
— Ryan*
