The woman is dressed like those business ladies I’ve seen in magazines. She wears slacks with pressed creases and a matching jacket. Her smooth brown hair is clasped at the back of her head. She’s about Mama’s age, but with none of the wear and tear that comes from life on the outside. Her chin and nose are sharp, her lips thin, unwelcoming, but there’s something familiar about her sky blue eyes. They fall on me now as I’m staring, speechless.

The woman lifts her lips in a smile that’s supposed to be welcoming but borders on nasty. She takes a step toward me, her shoulders back, her chin held high. “You must be Riley. I’ve wanted to meet you for a while now.”

There’s something familiar about her voice. It takes a moment before it hits me. It’s the voice I heard over the intercom reprimanding Rayburn when he tried to be kind. She’s one of the head Breeders.

We’re screwed.

I swallow and raise my own chin. “Who’re you?”

She takes another step. “I’m Dr. Nessa Vandewater. I’m one of the people in charge here.” She gestures toward the hospital. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Riley. I’ve heard a lot about you.” She clasps her hands in front of her and I note her manicured fingernails, long and red.

The Sheriff snorts and she shoots him a pointed look. He grumbles but quiets. He rests his palms on the set of revolvers on his wide hips and glares at me.

Her shiny black shoes click on the tile as she takes another step forward. She’s close enough I can smell her perfume, something like wilting roses. I focus on her eyes, piercing blue with flecks of gray around the irises. Where have I see her before?

She studies my face and gives a nod of approval. “I can see why Clay’s taken a shine to you. Feisty, bold. Just like his mother.”

I cock my head. “You know Clay’s mother?”

“Yes.” Dr. Vandewater smiles faintly. “Quite well.”

The Sheriff snorts again. He slouches against the wall, his belly folding over his belt buckle. He’s bored with this whole exchange and cranky, like he’s being forced to be here. Is she in charge? How much power has been handed to the Sheriff by this blue-eyed woman? No wonder he’s staring at the back of her head like he could smack it.

I point to my mama asleep on the bed next to me. “What about her?” I say, touching her hand. Her skin feels like brittle paper. “What’s going to happen to her?”