I could always visit Geoffrey again and ask him myself, but something was suspicious. Lots of things, actually. First, his denial. I hadn’t expected a confession, but it was as if he had no earthly idea who I was or what I was talking about. How could he have completely erased that night? Either he was a serial rapist who couldn’t keep track of his victims, or he truly didn’t remember it.

Then there was the fact that nothing about him rung a bell. Even his voice didn’t sound the same. People’s voices didn’t change that much, did they? And a voice wasn’t something you could easily fake. Although I had known so little about him back then, he had left a brand on my memory that still burned. I had expected my showing up out of the blue after all these years to shock him, at least a little. And yet he was completely unfazed.

The details didn’t add up. Geoffrey swore he didn’t know me, and I had to admit, he was pretty damn convincing. He didn’t look like the man I remembered. The more I pieced together, the more jumbled it got. The only explanation was that Willow hadn’t found the same Geoffrey Faust from my past, and Owen possibly had something to do with it.

“You said Auntie Mac knows about it,” said Ryan. “Do you think she told Aria?”

“No, not Aria, but possibly Owen. I think Mac might have told him based on something he said today.” I didn’t add that I was starting to think it was possible—maybe even likely—Owen had something to do with the unknown fate of the real Geoffrey Faust.

“You saw Mr. Fischer?” Ryan asked. “Did you speak to him about the charges?”

“Yes, and like I said, I might have a way of convincing him to drop them.”

“Mom, please don’t. He could hurt you.” Bruises still marred Ryan’s face where Owen had pummeled him. My fingertip traced the purple ring around his eye socket. Come to think of it, the Geoffrey at the apartment had brown eyes, not the vibrant blue that Ryan had inherited. I knew it in my gut—he wasn’t the Geoffrey Faust from my past, but the real one was out there somewhere, and somehow Owen knew where he was.

“That’s exactly why I can’t let Owen get away with it, honey. He’s violent. Assault charges are just the beginning. We’ll go back down to the police station to press charges against him—see how he likes having an arrest record.”

“So he can get a slap on the wrist? They’ll probably side with him since I’m technically an adult and he only gave me a black eye for having sex with his underage daughter when I deserved worse.”