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"Do you have a key?" Adam asked.
Both girls shook their heads. "Mom's always home," the older one said.
"Can I try it?" I asked.
The girl nodded. I cast an unlock spell under my breath and turned the knob.
"Huh," I said. "Must have just been stuck. Go on in. Tell your mom we're here."
The older one glanced back to make sure we weren't going to follow them. I let the screen door close. Inside, the baby's howls turned to whimpers as she heard her sisters.
"Mommy!" the younger one said, racing past her sister as she dropped her backpack. "We're home! Did you make the cupcakes? My teacher said I need two dozen for the bake sale and--Mommy? Come on, Mommy. Wake up!" Giggles erupted, punctuated by squeaking springs.
"Don't jump on the bed," her sister said. "Mom?"
There was a pause, a long one, and my heart started thumping. Adam gripped my elbow, reassuring.
The older girl ran into the hall. She saw us and started, like she'd forgotten we were there.
"Is everything okay?" I called through the screen.
"It's Mom. She won't wake up."
twenty-nine
Tiffany lay curled up on her side, under the covers. Her younger daughter still stood on the bed, uncertain. She gave a tentative bounce, and for a second, I saw myself years ago, bouncing away as my mother sang, Ten little monkeys bouncing on the bed...
My mom. Their mom. Oh, God. Please no.
I touched Tiffany's neck. She was warm, but I couldn't find a pulse. I shook her shoulder. Her head lolled back, eyes still closed.
I turned. "Adam--"
He was already running back into the hall. "I'll get them."
"Mom?" the older girl said, her voice wobbling.
"She's sick," I said. Liar, liar. "Take your sister and--"
I stopped. I wanted them out of that room. God, I wanted them out of that room. But I'd just been found over another dead body. I couldn't stay in there alone. So I scooped up the younger girl and carried her out, motioning for her sister to follow.
"Let's get the baby, okay?" I said. "The doctor is on the way and your mom--"
I stopped myself before I said "your mom will be fine." I wouldn't. When my mother died, they hadn't told me for days, and that only made it worse.
The baby was howling again. When we walked into her room, she was sitting up, face red, chubby body trembling with exhaustion.
The oldest girl snatched a cartoon character pillow out of the crib. "She isn't supposed to have that in bed."
I lifted the baby out. She stopped crying and peered at me through red-rimmed eyes. A hiccup, as if she remembered me. Then a wail. I wasn't a stranger, but I wasn't her mother.
I motioned the older girl to the rocking chair and settled the baby in her lap as Bruyn headed down the hall. Seeing us, he stopped. The older officer, right on his heels, almost ran into him.
Bruyn stared at the girls for a second, winced, then turned toward the front door and yelled, "Mom?"
His mother hurried into the baby's room, clucking and calling the girls by name. I slipped out to follow Bruyn. Adam came up behind me and squeezed my hand. We headed into the master bedroom.
"She's dead," I murmured when I was sure the girls couldn't hear. "I didn't tell her daughters--"
