Page 116 of Mirror Image

Nodding, she collapsed against me again, reassured I would carry out the wish she wouldn’t live long enough to see fulfilled.

I was there the moment my sister took her first breath.

And I was there the moment she took her last.

One I’ll never remember, and the other I’ll never forget.

Chapter Forty-Five

Jenn

One week later

It’s not until I’m almost directly across the street from the brownstone where my office is located that I spot her. She’s partially obscured by the potted plants lining the front steps, and it takes a second for me to put all the pieces together. A few wisps of brown hair have escaped from under the hoodie she’s wearing—totally out of place for a warm June morning. Oversize sunglasses obscure what I know to be cornflower blue eyes. There’s only the faintest redness where there were abrasions not that long ago.

“Mary?” She scowls up at me, and I backpedal immediately. “Sorry, sorry—Sam. I’m just—I’m surprised to see you. Here. In New York. When did you—”

“Is it true?” she asks, springing to her feet so suddenly my neck snaps to follow her.

“Is what true?”

“Julian? Is he really dead?”

When she removes the sunglasses, I see the dark rings bruising the skin beneath her eyes. She looks like she hasn’t slept in days.

“Come inside,” I say, pulling the key from my bag and brushing past her to reach the door. “We can talk in my office.”

She stays silent as she follows me, the only sounds the creaking of old wooden stairs and the muted murmurs behind the other doors we pass: the dentist, the insurance broker, the psychic. It isn’t until we’re safely inside the door with my name on it that I answer her question.

“Yes, Julian is dead,” I tell her, dropping into my chair and gesturing to the one opposite me. She perches on the edge, leaning forward like the slightest shift might cost her the truth.

“Are you . . . are you sure?” she whispers.

“I am. Dr. Kellogg and I went to his house and confronted him about the journals. We hadn’t even made it out of the driveway before he killed himself.”

She collapses back into the chair, a heavy puff of air escaping her lungs. “Oh my God.” She rubs the bridge of her nose, then her head jerks up again, eyes sharp with sudden urgency. “Did he tell you where she is? Where Sam’s daughter is? Did you get that out of him before he did it?”

I shake my head, already holding up my palms so she won’t panic.

“No. But he wasn’t as brilliant as he thought he was. He left plenty of clues for anyone who was looking. And trust me when I tell you Dr. Kellogg and I were looking.”

She swallows, absorbing that, and I have to give the man credit. He pulled every string he had, turned over every rock Julian thought he’d buried his secrets under.

“Did you ever hear Julian mention a place called Mayo, Florida?”

She frowns. “No. Never heard of it.”

“Yeah, well . . . I think that was the idea. It’s one of those blink-and-you’ll-miss-it towns where he knew someone who ran a clinic.”

“Oh my God. Is that the place? Is that where he sent her to have the baby?”

I nod somberly.

“It is. She was sedated, and by the time she woke up, the baby was gone.”

When tears start to spill down her cheeks, I hold out a box of tissues. She plucks one and wipes her face as I continue. “Once we had that tiny thread, we pulled and pulled until it all unraveled.”

“Please,” she manages, her voice splintering at the edges, “tell me she was adopted by a good family. That she wasn’t . . . hurt.”