“I …” She shrugs. But my mother never shrugs. She’s always certain, if not of the answer, then at least of the question. Of the fact that she should be asking it. “Some new evidence has come to light, and—”

“What evidence?” This doesn’t feel right. Cops ask questions about evidence, but Mom’s not wearing her badge. Not even psychologically. She’s been drinking. And crying. And it’s two o’clock in the morning. “Is this about that tweet? Because it’s a lie. I never—”

Wait. Mom was upset before tonight. “Last night, when we were decorating the tree, I could tell something was wrong.” She should have been as relieved as Penn was about his test results. But she wasn’t. “You said it was just the pressure to identify Lullaby Doe, but that wasn’t it, was it?”

“No. I’m sorry, Beckett. I wasn’t ready to tell you yet. Hell, I wasn’t ready to process it for myself yet.”

“But now you’ve processed it?” Whatever it is?

“Not really. But with all three of you out of school for the next two weeks, this is the only chance I really have to catch you alone, when I’m not working.”

And she’s definitely not working. This is not the bearing, or the phrasing, or the approach of a cop. “What’s the evidence, Mom?”

“Beckett, did you have a baby?”

“No! I’ve already told you! That baby is not mine.”

“Lower your voice, please. I need you …” She inhales deeply, then she exhales slowly. “I need you to have an exam.”

I push my cider back, untouched. “What kind of exam?” But I think I already know, and the answer makes me feel sick.

“I need to take you to see my gynecologist.”

For several seconds, I can’t think of what to say. I can’t even form clear thoughts. “I can’t— I can’t believe you! You want a doctor to tell you I’ve never had a baby?” I shove my stool away from the island and storm into the living room. I’m halfway to the hall when she catches up to me and grabs my arm.

“Beckett, come back and hear me out.”

“Let go!”

“Shhh,” she hisses. “Please come back and hear me out, and if you still don’t want the exam after that … that’s fine.”

I go with her not because I have any real interest in hearing her out, but because I’m almost as curious as I am pissed off. What kind of evidence could make her think it’s my baby, just as she finds out it isn’t Penn’s?

And how did the Crimson Cryer get ahold of that intel before I did?