“Okay,” Petro says as soon as I pick up. “So, SparkNotes version: there is a record of a child being born to a Ms. Kinsley Jane Whitlow. November 11th at St. Michael’s Hospital. Date on the birth certificate is nine years, three months, six days ago. Father unlisted.”
Irrational anger surges through me. “She wasn’t going to tell me.”
“You never know,” Petro tries to suggest. “She might have been, you know, just… waiting for the right moment.”
“Surely there were one or two of those in the last ten years,” I snarl.
“Well, everything else is pretty straightforward. She’s changed addresses three times since the baby was born—”
“The child’s name,” I growl. “What is it?”
“Isla,” I repeat in a reverent whisper. “Isla.”
“Wait. Where do you stand on the whole meeting tonight?”
“Same place I
