He reached into the back seat and pulled a black leather briefcase forward.

“I had my investigator look into the medical clinic’s digital archives,” Marcus said.

He handed me a tablet from the briefcase.

“He found something in the backup servers from Dr. Mercer’s old office.”

“The clinic was shut down three years ago, but the emails were archived.”

I turned on the tablet.

The screen glowed in the dark cabin of the car.

“Look at the dates,” Marcus said.

“This was six months before your wedding to Celeste.”

I scrolled through the list of retrieved emails.

There were dozens of messages between Dr. Lionel Mercer and an encrypted email address.

The domain was private, registered to a holding company in Delaware.

I clicked on the first email in the thread.

The text was brief.

“The records have been updated as requested,” Dr. Mercer had written.

“The patient will receive the modified report on Tuesday.”

“The fee has been wired to the Zurich account.”

I scrolled down to find the sender’s reply.

The sender had signed the email with a single initial.

“C.”

My chest tightened.