“I promise,” I say to her. Then she gets up and leaves. I hear her walk softly to her room. A moment passes and she returns.

She sits down casually. Too casually, like she’s acting. And I can feel that her heart is exploding.

She carries a small book of nursery rhymes. She hands it to me through the bars.

“The story on page twenty-three is my favorite,” she says.

I open the book and carefully turn the pages until I find what she wants me to see. On page twenty-three, tucked into the crease, is a picture of a young woman.

A young woman with real blond hair and long, skinny legs.

I stare at the picture, trying to hide the surge of adrenaline as it pulses through my veins, turning my face crimson.

I am looking at a woman who resembles my daughter.

Alice picks up Hannah.

“That’s my mommy,” she says. “Daisy Alice Hollander.”

I look at Alice, then to the picture. Then to Alice again. Her face is transformed from that of a child to a grown, wise woman.

A woman who understands and wants me to understand what’s happening here.

Alice’s mother is dead. The mother that Mick loved so much it made him cry.

And now he’s found a way to bring her back to life. He’s found a woman who has long blond hair and a sleek body and is young.

He’s found my daughter.

I nod slowly to Alice. She reaches through the bars and takes the book from my hands.

Yes, Alice. I try to say with my eyes. I understand.

I am now certain of his plan.

And certain of mine.

Chapter Forty-two

Day seventeen

Nic stopped just beyond the clearing where she could see Veronica Hollander’s house. The trees were thicker here, evergreens mixing in with the pines and oaks, filling up the sky. The house seemed dark inside but smoke billowed from a chimney. She could smell the wood burning even with the windows closed.

A text broke through the silence. It was Reyes.

At the station with Watkins. Will sort everything out. Heading back to see you.

Nic stared at it, remembering she had just seen Watkins leaving town—back to the casino. And she had just driven past the police station. Reyes’s car had not been there.

Something about this was all wrong.

She got out of the car and walked to the same door she’d been to the day before, with Kurt Kent.

She knocked, waited. She could hear the creaking of floorboards inside, someone walking. Maybe deciding whether to let her in. She was alone this time. And she’d been asking questions about the past that had made Veronica uncomfortable.

“Hello?” Nic called out. She knocked again.

“It’s Nicole Clarke. From the other day—with Kurt? I just have a few more questions.”