"She didn't see who shot her. But she knows something. She begged me to leave. She said she disappeared to protect us. Then she got so upset, everything went haywire, and that's all I know."

"I'm sorry," he said, compassion in his gaze. "You've had a rough time."

"I thought I was going to finally get answers, but I made things worse. She was getting better. Now…I don't know." I turned around as the doctor came out of the room. "How is she?" I asked. "What happened?"

"Her blood pressure was skyrocketing. I had to give her a sedative. She'll be asleep for several hours. I'm sorry. I know you both wanted to ask her questions, but it will have to wait."

"Is she going to be all right?" I asked. "I didn't mean to upset her."

"We'll know more in a few hours."

I was so tired of hearing that response, of hoping I would know more in a few hours. But those hours came and went, and I still knew nothing. I should have kept my mom focused on talking about who was trying to kill her instead of getting caught up in the past.

"I'll be back," the inspector told me.

I thought about telling him that my dad had shown up, but I'd just be throwing my father under the bus, and I still didn't know if he belonged there, so I let him go.

I debated on what to do next. My mother would be asleep for a long time, and I didn't want to spend all day at the hospital. I might as well go back to the house. Maybe my father would return, and we could talk some more.

Before heading to the elevator, I stopped in the restroom. As I opened the door, I ran straight into a woman.

"Sorry," I said, then caught my breath as I stared into the woman's face. "Oh, my God," I said in shock. The woman pushed past me and ran down the hall.

I couldn't let her get away. I chased after her, following her down the stairwell, our heels clamoring on the steps as we raced toward the bottom. I caught up to her just before she could leave the building, throwing myself in front of the door.

We stared at each other for a long minute. Her hair was a dirty blonde, but her eyes were the same as mine, her face the same as mine, but years older. She didn't look just like me; she looked like my mother.

"Who are you?" I whispered.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

"No one," the woman said. "Get out of my way." Her voice also sounded familiar.

"You're her sister—maybe her twin sister," I said in amazement. "How is that possible?"

"You need to move and forget you ever saw me."