Deven shook her head, her mind grating over scenarios that sounded imperative and believable, but not incriminating. She chose her words cautiously. “This woman, Amber Wright, I think she pretended to be my sister,” she said. “I’m not sure, but I’m friends with someone who says he dated Amber Wright, but she was using my sister’s information. It may not mean anything, but if it’s something there I was hoping we could find out. Especially with the discrepancy.”

McKinney’s brow lifted, making it clear there was no discrepancy. Maybe the lie worked. Maybe she didn’t want to see through Deven’s bullshit. Or maybe she just felt sorry for the poor woman who was so far steeped in the denial stage of grief she couldn’t even recognize her own sister, despite all of the hard facts. Either way, the cop sighed and brushed those billowing strands of hair from her face.

“I can’t make any promises,” she said, finally. “But let me see what I can do.”

Deven pulled out her cell phone and pulled up the information Paul had texted her about Amber. She rattled off the name again, as well as a phone number and some other identifying information he had managed to collect. She made sure to skip over the address he had provided. No use sending the police when she planned to do a little investigation of her own.

Chapter Seventeen - Before

Chapter Seventeen

Before

She dreamed of dead babies. Rows and rows of little lifeless bodies like cornfields, all with faces that looked the same; pallid, sunken, and eyes frozen in time. Deven stumbled through the maze of corpses, tiptoeing so as not to step on any of the scattered limbs. She could hardly see where she was going through the film of tears.

Somewhere in the distance, a baby’s high-pitched cry echoed. “I’m coming, sweetie,” Deven called though she couldn’t figure out which direction the bawling was coming from. The baby sounded like it was in pain which only caused Deven’s panic to soar. Too many babies. Stretching for miles. Which one was crying? Then another baby’s cry lifted to harmonize in a somber duet. Her twins. Her babies.

Something cracked beneath her shoe and Deven looked down. A baby’s arm had broken underneath her footstep, its limb now disjointed at a painful angle that had her swallowing a surge of bile. The cries echoed from somewhere and she collapsed, cradling the dead baby with the broken arm.