He looked straight across the desk at Claire, his gray eyes steady beneath thick white brows.

“I knew the way you carry yourself the moment you came through the door, Claire,” Howard said.

Claire sat stiffly in her chair, her hands clasped tight over her purse.

“It’s been thirty-four years, Howard,” Claire said.

“I handled your divorce filing back in October of nineteen ninety,” Howard said gently.

“Just before Frank took Mara and disappeared.”

I turned my silver wedding band around my thumb, feeling the cool metal slide against my knuckle.

“You were her lawyer back then?” I asked.