*
A week later.
Night.
A black Bentley set off from the center of London to Brighton under the cover of nightfall.
The driver gripped the steering wheel, also a bit nervous. His master was sitting in the back seat, one leg propped up, his features and silhouette hidden in the darkness, exuding an imposing silence.
Half an hour before, Trenton Smith had received a photo from a doctor at a Brighton hospital.
The photo was a candid shot and quite blurry, depicting a nurse accompanying a young woman during a prenatal checkup.
Only one side of her face was visible.
Her hair was cut short, her body even thinner, her expression calm and gentle, missing the liveliness of the past, appearing very quiet.
He had never seen Norris Moore with short hair before; she looked somewhat similar and somewhat different, and a blurry photo couldn't decide anything.
