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“So do lots of people,” Garrison pointed out. “Otherwise, there aren’t many similarities.” He squinted at the photograph, and his eyebrows rose slightly. “Although… see if you can find any pictures of the wife when she was a lot younger. I think she must have had work done to her face a while back.”
“You mean plastic surgery?” I asked as Blaze dove back into his searching.
Garrison nodded. “The signs are only subtle—it was well done—but it’s hard to hide the evidence completely if you know what to look for.”
After a few minutes while we waited in tense silence, Blaze crowed in victory and brought up a slightly grainy photo of a dark-haired woman in a robe. “Her high school yearbook photo, senior year. Holy shit.”
My jaw went slack. The woman in the picture wasn’t a perfect match for me, but I felt as if I could have been looking at a younger sister. She had not just the same wavy black hair, but a long nose and thin lips that made her face echo mine.
“That’s her?” I murmured.
Blaze nodded.
“Looks like she had her nose done to give it more of a cute ski-jump thing,” Garrison observed, and glanced at me. “I personally think the version you’ve got is more elegant.” His gaze darted back to the photograph. “And a little plumping to her lips. Enough that the resemblance was obscured. But there’s no denying it seeing that picture.”
My mouth had gone dry. There really wasn’t any denying that this woman was related to me. I had no idea what to say or do about it. My whole body had frozen in place.
Blaze looked over at me. “Are you okay, Dess?” he asked in a gentle tone.
“I—I guess.” I rubbed my temple. “This all still seems so bizarre.” I paused. “Even if the household did kidnap me, why would they still be keeping tabs on Malik now? It’s been over twenty years. It must be obvious he doesn’t realize I’m alive.”
Julius frowned. “Maybe there’s more to their plan beyond simply kidnapping you. Let’s take a look at his recent activities again with the new perspective we’ve just gotten.”
Blaze typed away without any further prompting. A list of search results popped onto the screen—and the first one made my heart lurch to the base of my throat.
Damien Malik, Majority Whip, Victim in Brutal Attack. And the time stamp next to the headline was just this evening.
