The woman who raised me—the woman I trusted, who was so composed and put together, who never once let on that she had a kid—was hiding this?

My stomach twists. If she kept this a secret, what the hell else was she hiding?

I glance at Bennett, but his expression is unreadable, his gaze locked on the passing trees. If he’s feeling even a fraction of what I am, he’s burying it deep. I wonder if he’s thinking about what this means for him. For us.

We grew up an hour away from each other. Is it possible that we’ve passed each other before? Brushed shoulders at a store, sat in the same diner? How many near-misses have we had in the last twenty-eight years?

The thought makes my skin itch.

I shift my focus to Selene and Celeste instead. Selene has one earbud in, but she’s not listening to anything—just an old habit, a method of grounding herself. Celeste, on the other hand, is staring at her nails, chewing her lip like she’s debating whether or not to speak. She loses the battle.

“This is some soap opera-level drama,” she murmurs, shaking her head. “Long-lost sons, secret identities, probably some murder—”

Bennett’s head snaps toward her. “Probably?”

She shrugs. “Just saying. We are investigating poisonings. I feel like a murder revelation is inevitable at this point.”

Mo exhales sharply, pressing her fingers against her temples. Orion grumbles under his breath about turning the car around.

Cassie’s house appears ahead before anyone can argue.

It’s an old place, tucked away between towering pines, with vines creeping up the wooden beams of the porch. Wind chimes of different shapes and sizes hang from the eaves, catching the breeze and singing a strange, melodic tune. A wreath of dried herbs and flowers adorns the front door, some of them faded and brittle with time.

A few garden gnomes peek out from flower beds, their beady eyes following us as we step out of the car. There’s a welcome mat at the door with words written across it, though I can’t quite make them out from this angle.

Orion parks, and we pile out, exchanging glances. None of us seem eager to be the first up the porch steps.

“You sure she’s home?” Selene asks, eyeing the place like she expects it to disappear into the mist.

“She’s home,” Mo says, striding forward with a confidence that I know she doesn’t feel.

I knock once.

Before I can knock again, the door swings open.

Cassandra stands there, hands on her hips, peering at us with wise, dark eyes and a knowing expression.