“You really didn’t find anything on him?” she asks, breaking me from my thoughts. Does she want me to find something wrong?
“No. He was with his mom. His mom is an elementary school teacher, and he worked for a company that helped save restaurants from failing. Then about a year ago, Evander contacted him after discovering they had a brother. You know what happened from there.”
“Why would an elementary school teacher get involved with someone like Frankie Perez?” I don’t miss how her voice breaks when she says his name. I know there is history; I just don’t know what.
I shrug. “People hide their true colors all the time.”
“Don’t I know it,” she mutters cryptically, then sighs. “Have you found anything on Evander or Mateo?”
I hand her another folder. “They check out, too. They dispatch
