He picked it up, opened it, and read the engraving. His jaw tightened.
“Where did you get this?”
“From my son.”
Graham stared at him for several long seconds. “Tell me everything.”
Harrison did. The cemetery. The accident. Deborah. The clinic. The shell companies. The house sale. By the time he finished, Graham was no longer looking at him like a worried brother. He was looking at him like a lawyer staring at the outline of a massive criminal conspiracy.
“If this is true,” Graham said, “we’re looking at identity fraud, embezzlement, forged instruments, unlawful restraint, obstruction, and possibly vehicular manslaughter.”
“She killed another boy,” Harrison said.
“Then we also need to identify him properly.”
“His name was Evan Price.”
Graham wrote it down. “Where is Julian now?”
“A small hotel under another name.”
“Not safe. He comes to my house tonight.”
Harrison exhaled. “Thank you.”
“I’m not doing this as a favor. I’m doing it because if Deborah did even half of this, she is more dangerous than you understand.”
“I understand enough.”
