"Mrs. Simmons? It's Vicki Nelson calling; the private investigator from Toronto?" She paused and considered how best to present the information. Oh, what the hell... "We've found your husband." "Is he... alive?" "Yes, ma'am, very much so. He's working as an insurance adjuster under the name Tom O'Conner." "Don always works in insurance." "Yes, ma'am, that's how we found him. I've just sent you a package, by courier, containing a copy of everything we've discovered including a number of recent photographs, you should receive it before noon tomorrow. The moment you call me with a positive ID, I'll take the information to the police and they can pick him up." "The police thought they found him once before, in Vancouver, but when they went to pick him up he was gone." "Well, he'll be there this time." Vicki leaned back in her chair, shoved her free hand up under the bottom edge of her glasses and scrubbed at her eyes. In eight years with the Metropolitan Toronto Police and nearly two years out on her own, she'd seen some real SOBs; Simmons/O'Conner ranked right up there with the best of them. Anyone who faked his own death in order to ditch a wife and five kids deserved exactly what he got. "My partner's going to talk to him tonight. I think your husband will decide to stay right where he