Monica had demanded to come with him. She was in poor condition, had been literally drained of energy by Grace as one sucks water through a straw, but the flash of resolve in her eyes made it clear to Troy that she was not staying behind at home.

“This is my fault,” Monica had said. “I ignored your warnings about Grace, put all of us in jeopardy. I’ll be damned if I don’t do my part to make it right.”

Sullivan was coming, too. He’d wrapped a bandage around his wounded hand and hopped in his pickup truck to follow them.

As Troy sped down the roads, he gave Monica the highlights of what he’d learned.

“She’s done this before,” he said. “Many times, over the years, with families just like ours, with children of hers, daughters, who look exactly like you.”

Monica blinked in surprise, but didn’t disagree. He wondered what had happened between her and Grace that finally opened her eyes. Among other things, perhaps McBride’s dead body sitting like a wax figure in their living room had something to do with her newfound acceptance.

“We had a fight.” Monica sucked in her bottom lip. She was bundled in a white puffer coat, and she had lost so much weight recently that the coat looked much too big on her. She touched the purplish bruise on the side of her face. “Hit me when I asked to go to the hospital, tied me up. She was . . . she was sucking stuff out of me when you got back, I was powerless to fight back, paralyzed.”

“Hang on.” Troy swung the car through a sharp turn.

“She killed my father, Reverend McBride.” Monica’s lips trembled. “I didn’t even . . . I didn’t even get a chance to know him, Troy, and he was trying to reach out to me. I believed her lies about him.”

“So did Lily,” Troy said. “But Grace is the root of everything. She brought about this mystery illness of yours, the rapidly advanced aging. She was feeding on you every night.”

“I don’t remember any of that happening,” Monica said. “But she was sedating me with her damned herbal teas. I’ve been so sleepy, so agreeable to everything she says . . .”

“It’s how she works. She did the same thing to your sisters, over the years.”

“My sisters,” Monica said in a flat voice.

“Look at the pictures in the report.” Troy pointed at the display embedded in the console. “I had a DNA test run on both of you.”

“You did? When?”

“Couple days ago. Didn’t ask your permission, sorry, but I had to know. Your DNA is almost identical, but a small portion of hers is unknown.”

“Unknown. Jesus.”