Her jacket slides off her shoulder, exposing her upper arm. I notice one of her scars that looks rather recent. A tiny incision, about two inches on the inner side. I brush my thumb on it and feel something like a thin, small object underneath. My mind instantly thinks of bullet fragments and shrapnel. I’ve had my share of those, removing them or living with them on a daily basis. But Birdie has never been in combat.
She flinches into awareness. Her gaze dips to where I’m touching her, and she quickly fixes her jacket to cover her arm. “What are you doing?”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up. That scar… There’s something under it. What is it?”
“Nothing.” She glances at Brandon in the driver’s seat, and her voice drops. “It’s just Nexplanon.”
“Nex what?”
She laughs under her breath and whispers, “Birth control implant.”
My eyes narrow at her. “I thought you said you were on the pill.”
“Yeah… It’s easier to say that to a man instead of having to explain what Nexplanon is, like I’ve just done now. It kind of ruins the mood.”
Point taken.
She stares out of the window, a line between her eyebrows forming. Then she fills her chest with a long breath and exhales it in a longer sigh.
“Penny for your thoughts,” I say.
A fake smile forms and dies on her lips. “You never told me your old last name.”
“Umm, if I tell you, will you tell me what’sreallyon your mind?”
Her head rests back and bobs with a nod.
“Cáceres, and Tristán is my middle name.”
“Cáceres.” She tries the name in a terrible accent. “I prefer Morra.”
“Me too. Now, I have one for you. Why didn’t you change your last name back to your maiden name after you know who went to prison?”
She shrugs. “I didn’t have enough time. It was a very hard time for me. Everything went into a downward spiral. Then I met Blake. It was all happening so fast. You know the rest of that story.” Her eyes peer at me. “My turn. What is your original first name?”
“That’s for you to remember. I gave you enough hints.”
“That’s not fair. You know I suck at recalling names. I’ll never remember.”
“Stop evading my question and tell me what’s troubling you. Listen, if you don’t wanna go to Miami anymore, it’s not too late to change your mind.”
“No, of course not. I was just wondering.”
“About?”
“3:17 p.m., the first time Reid Ashford saw me. We know it was at the school. What was he doing there at that time?”
“3:17 is around pickup time. He could have been picking up a student. A son, a daughter.”
“He said he’d never gotten married and didn’t mention any children, but he did say he had a sister.”
“Do you know how old?”
“Early twenties. That makes her what, fourteen, fifteen back then?”
I pull out my phone and retrieve the student list of suspects. I search for Ashford. A match is immediately found. I show it to Birdie. “Look, Melinda Ashford. Twenty-three. Father deceased. Only known male relative is Reid Ashford, her brother.”
Birdie removes her shades and stares at the screen for a few seconds. She blinks between my face and the name before she scoffs. “That’s it. That’s how he’s connected to the school. All this time, Reid Ashford has been Butterfly Man. AndMelinda…may be the one helping him.”
