"There are two cases ongoing," Catherine said. "The man who was shot on the property last night and Daria's disappearance. I'm becoming more and more convinced that there's a connection between the two."

"Oh, I don't see how there could be," Helena scoffed. "I'm told the man was a filthy bum, perhaps some sort of degenerate -"

"Careful how you talk about him, Mrs. Cameron," Catherine said, interrupting as gently as she could. She didn't want to let Helena become too riled up, since she was clearly not well. But she was here, and the poor woman had to know the truth. Next of kin notification could be the hardest job any police officer had to do. Sometimes, though, valuable information could be learned through the process, which was one of the reasons detectives preferred to do it themselves instead of delegating it. "In fact, it might be best if you sat down."

"Anything you have to say, Mrs. Willows, I can hear standing up."

"Very well," Catherine said. She noted that Craig Stilton took Helena's elbow, offering support. Catherine took a deep breath. Conrad Ecklie would be pissed, but that was a risk she would have to run. "The man Mr. McCann here shot last night? He was Troy Cameron, your son. I'm very sorry for your loss."

Helena wobbled, and McCann caught her other arm. Her face went white, or as white as someone whose skin was taking on a distinct terra-cotta cast could go, and her dainty, fragile left hand curled before her lips. "That's not possible."

"This is outrageous," Stilton fumed. "How can you come in here and say something like that? What proof do you have?"

"I have enough common DNA markers to be sure, at odds of about eight trillion to one," Catherine said.

Helena's legs threatened to give out. Stilton and McCann got her onto a couch that didn't look as if it would have been comfortable when some French craftsman had made it in the 1700s, much less today. "He… I haven't seen Troy since he was seventeen," she said in a faltering voice. "I can't believe he's been… alive all this time, and… and now that I find him, he's… he's…"

Her head drifted backward. Stilton got a hand behind it just before it hit the wooden rail at the back of the couch. "We need to get her to bed," he said. "She can't take this. I can't believe you came in here and told her that."

"She has a right to know," Catherine said. "We always tell the next of kin." She knew that Ecklie would hear about it, and she would hear about it from him. But what she had said was true. Helena Cameron had to be told. Better in person than through an intermediary. And Catherine had needed to see her reaction, if at all possible.

One thing was certain now: Helena had not known her son was still alive.

And another thing: whatever illness Daria Cameron suffered from, Helena had it, too. Her flesh was definitely on the orange side, and when she had put her hand to her mouth, Catherine had seen yellowish-white streaks on her nails.

"I'm afraid you'll have to leave, Supervisor Willows," Gottlieb said as he marched into the sitting room. "I understand you've upset Mrs. Cameron terribly."

"That was not my intention," Catherine said. "But I'm sure you'll agree that a mother has a right to know her only son has been found."

"There was surely a better way to tell her."

"Perhaps. I believe in the direct, honest approach myself. Unlike some people."

Gottlieb crossed his arms over his chest, perhaps unintentionally swelling his biceps. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Catherine said, "that you didn't tell investigating officers about your relationship with Daria Cameron. She's missing, and her family is concerned. Don't you think your relationship is something the police might want to know about? Or were you afraid that it would make you a suspect?" She knew she was pushing it, maybe going a little over the top. But her certainty that this guy would complain to Ecklie, combined with his lame attempt to intimidate her by showing off his muscles, had licked her off.

To her utter surprise, Goltlieb backed down, deflating in an almost physical way. "Okay," he said. "You're right. Daria and I were seeing each other. But you have to understand that we agreed to keep it a secret because she was afraid it might disturb her mother, and I was worried that it might affect my relationships with the other people here at work. There was nothing more sinister about it than that. I didn't say anything to the police because I didn't think it mattered. I knew that nothing I had done had anything to do with Daria's disappearance, so if they spent time investigating me, it would just distract them from what was really important."

"You should have let the detectives make that call."

"I know. I understand that now, really. At the time, I was just thinking of the promise I made to Daria."

"Would her mother honestly have been upset? I thought maybe she knew, and that's why she – "

"That's why she took me back? No way. She wasn't like that. She might even have canned me if she'd found out about me and Daria. But see, I just knew that's what people would believe. Helena took me back because she tried two other people in my job, and neither of them was any good at it. We fought sometimes, because I'm a person who says what he thinks and doesn't stop to think about how someone else might take it. Which is why she fired me the first time, because I said some things about other people around her that she didn't like. But when she found out no one could run the estate the way she likes it, she personally called me and asked me to come back."

"How long has the affair with Daria been going on?" Catherine asked.

"Six months, give or take. We've been friends for ages, and it just kind of moved to a new level one day. Believe me, if there was anything I could have told the police that would help find her, I would have. I've been worried sick about her."

"Okay," Catherine said. She had plenty of experience reading people, living ones as well as dead, and he came across as someone who was telling the truth. "I won't say a word, unless I have reason to believe it would affect the investigation in some way."

"Thank you!" he said. He was so effusive she was afraid he would try to hug her. "You're an absolute lifesaver! I do love my job here, and I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize it."

"I'll do what I can," Catherine promised him again. "But if you think of anything – anything – that might help us find Daria, it's absolutely crucial that you let us know." She handed him her business card, even though she had given him one the night before.

He slipped the card into his pocket without looking at it. "I will," he said. "I would have already, except that -"

"I know. You made a promise. Promises are fine, but when lives are on the line, sometimes they have to be broken."