Her dad’s name was Miller and so far in her life she’d met nobody with that same name. He’d died before her birth and her mom never spoke about him, so she couldn’t be sure if this was the same Miller.

Then an idea occurred to her. She walked to the desktop computer—which Peg organized for her the first week she’d come here—and typed the name into the search window. Countless entries appeared from all sorts of articles. One caught her attention because it was from their city. Nem clicked through and read.

Lovebirds Miller Stratton and Wendy Froude, tumbled fifty feet from a rooftop.

Miller Stratton’s and girlfriend Wendy Froude’s bodies were found in a side street by a passing cab driver. Both were naked and had died from severe trauma.

Police say, in investigating the area, they discovered their clothes in a pile on the rooftop of a building overlooking the street. No suspicious circumstances were declared; with investigators believing the couple died from an accidental fall while in the throes of passion.

Miller Stratton, married at the time but not to Miss Froude, left behind a nine-month pregnant wife Patricia Stratton, who reportedly remained unaware of the affair until police notified her of her husband’s death. Is this justice one might say?

Oh no, this name was the same as her dad’s and mom’s!

She didn’t completely understand everything in the article but she knew him being naked with another woman was not good. She’d look up the meaning of ‘throes’ later. Her poor mom.

Nem returned to the diary she’d left on her bed. As she opened it again a sharp tingle flickered across her finger tips. This time it didn’t hurt but seemed more like the warm gentleness of water running across her skin.

She paged to her mom’s entry and paused, cocking her head to the side, surprised by what she saw now written on the page. Another name, which she felt certain hadn’t been there before she’d closed the book.

But how?

She ran a palm across the page to see if the ink was wet. The words didn’t seem fresh. Then she noticed the name, with its little minus in a circle. This one had no date. Weird. Weird. Double Weird.

Maybe she’d missed this before, surprised at seeing her mom’s name? No, no, this couldn’t have been there when she’d first read it. She hadn’t imagined this. Her mom’s inscription had been the last entry in the book.

Her heart banged against her chest and her head spun. Could this be a dream?

She pinched herself but no, she was awake. The book somehow put the name there. Of course, this was impossible. She knew this, but that’s what frightened her the most. Something impossible, inexplicable had just happened and her mom wasn’t here to explain.

The inscription next to the name left no doubt the diary was connected to her mom. Maybe to her. She wondered if finding this was no accident and if she was meant to do something.