Kathleen Knowles had disappeared.
Not in the literal sense—she still clocked into the lab early every morning, left after five, and drove straight home. But there were no detours, no coffee shop visits, no drinks after work. She existed along a narrow corridor of routine, and the rest of the world slid by without her noticing.
Marise had assembled her profile. Nothing intrusive. Not yet, merely quiet observation, though it was like chasing a ghost.
Kathleen didn’t do social media, had no club memberships, and no standing commitments outside her foundation work. No exes with grudges, no wildcards in her history. Even her colleagues were cordial, respectful, distant. It was as though Kathleen had mastered the art of invisibility.
She opened her academic file, studying names from Kathleen’s early publications. Most were tenured faculty. One stood out, Dr. Barbara Reilly, co-author on several foundational papers. A quick search found her in Helsinki, on sabbatical.
Then after pouring through science magazines for an hour, she found photos of the two women together at various functions. Reilly was likely her best friend, perhaps. Maybe more, once, though no longer in the picture.
Kathleen’s parents were doctors, the father, John, a cardiology specialist and her mother, Rhonda, worked in a fertility clinic. She was an only child. No arrests, scandals, or late-night ex-lovers lurking in background checks. Her life was orderly, boringly so.
And that was the problem.
Kathleen was unreachable. Marise couldn’t lob up at her work or her home, and there was no place like a coffee shop she couldconvenientlyrun into her.
She closed the file and leaned back, frustrated. She’d expected... something.
She’d had five clients since the gala dinner. They wanted warmth in the moment, then the second they closed the door it was over. That was the job: you played a part, filled a need, then stepped out of their lives.
With Kathleen it had felt different.
Veronica Hale was a part she played with ease, slipping into poise and charm, giving her clients her undivided attention until it was over. Then she forgot about them. Kathleen remained in her memory, not because she had responded to her charm, but because she hadn’t.
She sighed, laptop forgotten, fingers drumming her thigh. If she couldn’t reach Kathleen through her world, she’d have to find another entrance. A chance meeting? But where? A run-in at a conference? That was too farfetched. For once in her life, Marise was stumped and it wasn’t a good feeling.
Her phone rang as she was thinking. She picked it up, recognizing the number—the internal agency line.
Shit.Another client to entertain. Not that she disliked the interaction with these women, all were interesting in their own way, but Marise wasn’t built for this type of life.
“Elise,” she said, already composing herself.
“Good morning, Veronica.” Elise’s voice was well-modulated, as always. “You’ve been requested tomorrow night.”
Marise put on a bright tone. “Very good.”
“Dr. Kathleen Knowles asked for a private dinner. No driver, no formalities. The two of you. Tomorrow night, seven-thirty. We’ll send the location shortly.”
“Confirmed,” Marise said, careful to keep her voice even, though her relief was nearly palpable. “I’ll be ready.”
“She asked for you personally,” Elise added, a note of curiosity in her tone. “Only you.”
Marise smiled. Pleased. So, Kathleen hadn’t been put off by her. “Understood.”
The line clicked off. She set the phone down and gave a fist pump. Everything was back on track. The door was opened again and this time, she’d make sure she’d win her confidence.
Marise arrived five minutes early and waited outside.
The restaurant sat tucked beneath an ivy-covered awning on a quiet city street, its name,Marinos,was painted on a plague above the door. The smell of garlic, crushed tomatoes, and Italian herbs hung in the air.
When the cab pulled up and Kathleen stepped out, Marise could only stare.
She looked nothing like the woman from the gala. Gone was the stiff neckline and hesitant posture. Tonight, she wore asapphire dress that clung to her curves and her hair hung in soft blond waves. She looked radiant.
Kathleen caught her look and gave a small, bashful glance. “I hope I didn’t overdress.”
“You didn’t,” Marise said with a welcoming smile. “You look... lovely.”
