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"What about the neighbors? Did you interview them?" I asked.
"We've talked to several of them. Most weren't home or didn't see anything. Your mother is employed at the Harding School for the Arts as a music teacher. I spoke to the principal, Joanne Hunt. She told me that she couldn't imagine who would want to shoot your mother, that Laura is a kind, thoughtful teacher and very well-liked by both students and staff. She was not aware of any incidents at the school that would suggest someone had a problem with your mother."
His words were filling in a couple of blanks but also creating more questions in my head. "Is she single? Is she married? Does she have kids?"
"Mrs. Hunt said that Ms. Hawthorne is single and to her knowledge has not been married, nor does she have children. Clearly, that may not be the case since you're here and your name is in Ms. Hawthorne's phone with the designation of daughter."
"You have my mother's phone, don't you? Were there a lot of people on her contact list? I'm wondering if she had my sister's number or my dad's."
"There were ten contacts on the phone besides yourself. Three of them were teachers at the Harding School, two were friends who said they were part of your mother's book club, one was for her dentist, another for a local restaurant, and three numbers had no names. We called those numbers but didn't reach anyone. One of them had a voicemail for a man named Tom Wells. I don't suppose you know that name?"
"No. I wouldn't know the names of anyone in her current life. It's possible I might recognize one of the undesignated numbers. May I see the phone?"
"I'll get it."
I sat back in my chair as he left the room, my brain spinning as I thought about what I knew. My mother had a job as a music teacher. She had neighbors, friends, a book club, maybe even a boyfriend. That didn't sound like someone who was hiding. On the other hand, she was using the name Laura Hawthorne.Was that her real name? Was Kim Landry the fake name?
Inspector Greenman returned to the room with a large plastic bag. Inside was a brown leather purse. Next to that was a smartphone. He took it out and handed it to me.
"What's the code?" I asked, seeing the numbers pop up as the phone came on.
"0413. Your mother gave the code to the nurse when she asked her to call you. That saved us the trouble of trying to get into the phone."
My heart jumped. "That's my birthdate."
"Not surprising," he said with a nod. "Most people stay close to meaningful numbers."
I looked back at the phone, scrolling through her contacts. Dani's number was not there, which I once again found odd. I didn't recognize any of the other numbers. She hadn't put my dad's number on her contact list or Vicky, who had been my mother's friend before she'd become my stepmother.
"Anything jump out at you?" Inspector Greenman asked.
I shook my head. "No." I clicked on text messages, scrolling through those, but there were very few and most seemed to be about work or book club. "She didn't text a lot."
"Nor did she have an online presence," he said. "She lived a very quiet life." He glanced down at his notebook. "Your mother's date of birth would make her forty-nine years old." "Her ID said her birthday is May second."
I shook my head. "Her birthday is February ninth. I don't understand how my mother could live an entire life as Kim Landry and then become someone else. How could she get IDs in a different name? How could she get a Social Security number to match that name? She works, so she must pay taxes. Does she have a bank account?"
"She does. She has a checking account with about twelve thousand dollars in it and a savings account with another ten thousand. She owns the building where she lives, which consists of her two-story flat and a studio apartment on the first floor. We spoke to a man who is renting that unit. He wasn't home at the time of the shooting and said he only moved in a month ago. He didn't know much more about your mother than what I've told you." He paused. "It's not impossible to create a fake identity, but it's usually expensive. Aside from your mother's home, we haven't discovered any other assets. But I didn't realize until this conversation that your mother's shooting may be more complicated than I originally thought."
"Because she used to be someone else?"
"Yes. Most people don't disappear unless they have a good reason, including being afraid for their life. Maybe her past caught up to her." He picked up a pen. "You said her name was Kim Landry. What else can you tell me about the woman you knew?"
"She was born in Los Angeles."
"What was her maiden name?"
I thought for a moment. "I think it was Sullivan. I can find out from my dad."
"Good. What about your father? What's his name?"
"Ross Landry."
"And where is he now?"
"I'm not sure. I haven't spoken to him yet. I haven't told anyone in my family that my mom is alive. I didn't think it was real. I thought the nurse had made a mistake, that the woman in the hospital was some friend of my mom's, someone who might have somehow had a photo of my mother and my sister and me."
"Right," he said with a nod. "I saw the photo. It's in the bag along with her house keys, which we used to enter her home."
