Page 93 of Sexting My Ex’s Dad

“I know.”

“Should I ask why?”

I shake my head though he can’t see me. “No.”

Another beat. Then, “Good. Saves time. I know a lieutenant in Boston PD and two people who do financial crimes work on the side for fun, which should alarm you more than it does.”

“It does, actually.”

He huffs something that almost sounds like a laugh. “Give me an hour. Maybe two.”

I close my eyes for a second. “David.”

“What.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t do that yet,” he says. “Wait till I bring you something useful.”

When I hang up, Maya is already looking at me like she wants to ask but won’t until I’m ready. I sink back onto the couch and finish the soup while Ivy starts drawing on the back of a paper placemat from dinner.

“What are you making?” I ask.

“A wanted poster,” she replies.

I glance over. It is, in fact, a wanted poster, except Nate has devil horns and extremely bad teeth. “Harsh,” I murmur.

“He earned it,” she says.

Maya mutters into her drink, “Again, terrifying.”

Time passes differently when you’re waiting for dirt. The room softens around us. The food disappears. Ivy starts leaning heavier into the couch, then into Maya, then into the plush side of the blanket.

By the time David calls back, I’ve got a raging headache. “I’ve got enough,” he says without preamble.

I nod. “That implies I’m currently in the market for joy.”

He snorts. “Meredith Carson’s graduate degree is fraudulent.”

I sit up. “How fraudulent.”

“Submitted under a real institution, real format, fake completion status. She enrolled in a one-year HR certification track fifteen years ago, dropped out before final review, then three years later she surfaced with a master’s she never earned and a polished work history that doesn’t line up cleanly.”

Maya mouths, “Holy shit,” from across the couch.

Ivy frowns and hands her a jar. “Put a dollar in.”

Maya returns the frown and I gesture vaguely with my hand. “Do it, you used a bad word.”

While Maya groans and argues semantics with my kid, David keeps going. “Someone financed the cleanup. Tuition records, consulting fees, background placement, even a recommendation trail. The money links back to a shell company used by Cindy Clarke.”

My pulse picks up. “So Cindy manufactured her.”

“Close enough,” he says. “Meredith also has two sealed civil complaints tied to workplace intimidation at prior jobs. Both settled quietly. One complainant withdrew after a private cash transfer. Guess whose name shows up on the intermediary paperwork.”

“Cindy.”

“Gold star.”