“What’s her name again?” I whispered to myself, grabbing my phone and scrolling through the pictures. It was a good thing I had snapped a shot of every name on the Elite Team roster from that year.
I began reading. James Rochwall, Claire Hastings, Greg Loren, Jane East…That’s it!
Jane. That was the name of his wife.
A loud puff escaped my lips, knowing that while this was something—it definitely wasn’t much. The picture on the screen seemed crop, and I could tell it was originally a group picture.
Had I known about Jane last night, I could’ve pulled her aside and asked her about Adelaide—assuming Rochwall hadn’t told her to stay quiet about it. Now I was stuck.
My gaze shifted to the last name on the list, just before the two that had been crossed out.
Elyx Lythoria.
It was a stran
