Chapter 4

The card in Aaron's pocket read *Delia Marsh, Family Court Liaison* with a county phone number and the audio line under it. The handwriting beneath it, Renee's, gave the date and room. It had been there for a month in the drawer by the stove, sitting under a rubber band and a folded receipt for a hardware store. It had taken him forty seconds to find it, and he had a feeling she'd forgotten it existed.

He called the number from his phone, standing in the grass at the edge of the yard where his son was wheeling in slow circles around the trunk of the oak tree.

"Family Court Liaison, this is Delia."

"Ms. Marsh, this is Aaron Mercer."

The pause on the other end was a fraction too long. "Mr. Mercer," she said. Her voice was careful, pitched somewhere between neutral and guarded. "I was under the impression we'd spoken."

"We did. Three days ago. You told me about the petition. You told me about the hearing."

Another pause, longer this time. "I spoke to a man who said he was you."

The air went out of him. He stood very still, the phone pressed to his ear, the grass thick around his ankles. "You spoke to someone who said he was me."

"I understood it was... that I was verifying procedures with the respondent." Delia's voice had sharpened. "He had your case number. He asked about notification. He said the service address was the issue and that he'd corrected it. I flagged the file for follow-up, but I didn't meet him. Phone contact only."

"He had your card," Aaron said. "It's in my kitchen drawer. It was in her drawer."

The line was quiet. He heard the faint sound of a keyboard, then the crisp click of a file being opened.