“Three weeks ago, I was looking for a passport photo in his travel bag,” I said, the memory flashing vividly in my mind. “I found a thick envelope hidden in the lining.”

“What was in it?”

“A Canadian driver’s license,” I said. “It had his photo on it, but the name was Robert Vance.”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line.

“Are you sure, Natalie?” Sullivan asked.

“I am positive,” I said. “I didn’t think much of it at the time because he told me it was a prop for a corporate mystery game his firm hosted.”

“That wasn’t a prop,” Sullivan said. “That’s an alias.”

“If he realizes you are onto the financial fraud, he will run,” I said. “He won’t stay to fight this.”

“I’m calling the state police and border patrol immediately,” Sullivan said. “We’ll get his photo and both names flagged.”

“Please hurry,” I said.

“Keep your door locked,” Sullivan said. “I’ll call you when we have him in custody.”

The line went dead.

Rachel took the phone from my ear and set it back on the table.