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“What’s up, Twitch?” I asked, ticking my chin at her as I sank in the seat on the opposite side of the booth.
“That’s not my road name, dipshit.”
She was so damn easy to rile up. “Well, what is it this time? Another goose chase? We’ve gone on how many now? Ten? Twenty? A hundred? I fucking lost count.”
“Don’t get all snippy. Not my fault we haven’t found Stefanie yet.”
“If she’s truly alive and not buried in that grave,” I grumbled.
“Look, I know this has been hard. I told you it was always risky.”
“Risky I can handle. Losing my girl forever? Not so much.”
“Fuck.” Her head dropped into her hands for a few seconds before she lifted it. “Listen, I know you don’t believe me, but I’m convinced that Stefanie isn’t buried in that grave. I saw her, Shadow.”
“So you say.”
“Really. I did. When those Russian fuckers loaded up all those women and Wraith rescued Tawni; I saw her in a van with the others.”
“Maybe it was her doppelganger,” I deadpanned. This was too much. I couldn’t handle the hope anymore. It was eating me alive.
“Hey, it’s killing me too. Don’t forget I have someone I love mixed up in this too.”
“Have you told Toad yet?”
She shook her head, fear creeping into her eyes briefly. “He would never forgive me.”
Snorting, I crossed my arms over my chest. “I never agreed to keep your secrets.”
“Yeah, well, too fuckin’ late.” She reached into her purse and pulled out an autopsy report. “Look at this.”
I picked up the sheet and glared in her direction. I didn’t want to read all of this bullshit about someone I loved. This was torture.
“Read it,” she practically snarled. “I swear you’re going to want to see this.”
Huffing out a breath, I started paying attention to the details. This couldn’t be right. Stefanie’s weight was off, and there was no mention of the birthmark on her inner thigh and abdomen. She had a scar from crashing her bike as a girl, and it was prominent on her left knee. None of these were documented.
“What does this mean?”
“What do you think it means?”
“She might be alive,” I whispered with wonder, swallowing hard with the sudden surge of emotion that knowledge conjured.
“She might be alive,” Twitchy agreed.
“How do we find out for sure? We can’t just dig up her grave.”
Twitchy smiled a calculating grin that meant trouble.
“It doesn’t mention her tattoo either,” I divulged, finishing the document. “This is a fake. It has to be. Nothing else makes sense.”
“Then who the fuck is buried in her grave?”
“We’re about to find out.”
“HOLY FUCK,” I WHISPERED, staring at the arm of the girl in the coffin. She’d decomposed quite a bit, but that wasn’t the shocking part.
Her tattoo wasn’t real. It had been drawn on hastily and faded as the skin withered. Not only that, but the name was spelled wrong. There wasn’t a scar on the knee and no birthmarks, not even a hint. And someone died her hair to match Stefanie because the bush below didn’t match.
