I closed the door and stepped back up on the walk.
Max’s gaze landed on the bandage around my arm. “You going to be okay?”
I lifted my arm. “It was just a scratch. How’s Petunia?”
“The doctors are running tests, but they think she’ll be fine. Knowing exactly what she ingested helped treat her quicker.”
I nodded. “My sister is waiting so… have a good life, Max.”
I spun and opened the car door again.
“Gwen, I’m sorry.”
“Me too, but look at it this way. It’s a great reminder of why not to mix business with pleasure. Take care.”
I slid into the car and shut the door. It wasn’t until my sister was turning out of the hospital that my first tear fell.
I wasn’t a crier. The Bennett women didn’t believe in crying. Not at funerals, not at weddings, and not because of guys.
Another tear fell, and then they turned uncontrollable.
My sister gasped. “Oh my God. You love him.”
I swiped at my tears. “I don’t even know him, and I’ll never love a man who doesn’t believe in me.”
“You love him,” she repeated, and I turned toward the window to watch the trees passing by.
My sister thankfully turned quiet when I refused to play the tell-all game. Tears streaked down my face, and my shoulders shook as I silently let the pain invade my soul.
Cassie took me back to my car and dropped me off. I promised to call later.
Sliding behind the wheel, I shoved the keys into the ignition and drove home. After grabbing Amelia’s incriminating pictures from the trunk, along with Petunia’s drawing and the picture of everyone at the lake, I carried everything inside with my overnight bag. I’d just slapped the crayon-colored drawing onto the fridge with a magnet when my phone rang.
Unknown Caller filled the screen, and I answered on the third ring.
“Hello?”
“Ready to return the favor?” Fillpot asked.
“I haven’t even unpacked.” I chuckled.
“Good. I’m sending you a picture. I need you to use your personal program and locate this woman.”
“How did you know I have a personal program?”
“You’re bouncing around using our satellites, Ms. Bennett. You aren’t as stealthy as you believe.”
“What do you want me to do when I find her?” I asked.
“All I need is the location. I’ll handle it from there.”
“Aw, Fillpot, did one of your witnesses go AWOL?”
“Something like that,” he answered the second the computer dinged with incoming mail. “I’ll be waiting for your call, Ms. Bennett.”
I hung up and pulled up the file. I swallowed hard around the lump in my throat. Disbelief registered. I shook my head. “No, this is wrong.”
My hand covered my mouth, and I slid into the computer chair before my legs gave out. I knew instantly who it was, and I should. It was my sister, who we’d been told died in a car crash with my parents. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and a new scar down the side of her face. She’d aged. She was the spitting image of Cassie. “How is this possible?”
