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The blonde woman sat on the bed of her motel room, pouring over the files she had retrieved from the safe in the back of her truck. Taxes, taxes, military service, redacted files, military school files, and the paperwork she had held onto when she put the child she had up for adoption. Jessie peered over the information, knowing that it was probably outdated, but touched the names of the parents of the kid.

Dennis and Victoria Vanderfoak. Remembering those few times she had met them, she remembered she liked them, seemed like good-natured folks that would do what she felt couldn't have ever done for the child.

Then she remembered the meeting at the club; she had introduced herself as Veronica, not Victoria. Why introduce herself under a fake name? She did say she was a local politician. She turned her attention to her laptop, turning her upper body slightly to type in a search. When the results were displayed, Jessie touched the mousepad, scrolling the window down as she read the descriptions of each link.

"Dennis divorced you," she muttered, "for his first love. Wow, that sucks, Vicky, leaving you like that. Fooled me too. Thought that he'd be a better influence on the kid than my dad would've been. Heart failed when he realized what a bombshell he left."

More links were clicked on, and she pulled up the contact information she had for the Vanderfoaks, crossing out the last name, and writing Demure, and crossing out a few more information. Her files were reorganized and pushed into its folder before she turned back to her computer to do a bit more digging.

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