I answered every question.
No, I had not signed those forms.
No, I had not authorized Ryan to access my accounts.
No, I had never met the women in the files.
No, I had not known my husband was born Evan Cole Varner.
Each answer stripped another piece of illusion away.
One investigator, Agent Morales, had a calm, weathered face and the patience of someone who knew victims often apologized for not spotting traps sooner. He sat across from me in a plain interview room and slid a photograph across the table.
“Do you recognize her?”
The woman in the picture looked to be in her late fifties. Silver-blond hair. Kind eyes. A red scarf tied loosely at her neck.
“No,” I said.
“Her name is Diane Porter. Widow of a retired Army warrant officer. She lost her home after signing over financial control to a man using the name Curtis Lane. We believe that man may have been connected to Linda.”
