“Hey there, Norah.” Turning my head, I saw an attractive woman in baggy, wrinkled green scrubs. She looked about my age, and her curly red hair was pulled back in a ponytail. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be on vacation?”

“Hey, Ruthie,” said Renfrew. “I hate to admit it, but this is a vacation from my kids. They’re probably tearing down the house right now.”

“I hear you. My kid’s still going through his terrible twos, and I keep threatening to bring him in here for a day. Knowing him, he’d probably get a kick out of it.”

Renfrew put her hand on my shoulder. “Let me introduce you to Lily Moore.”

Ruthie’s smile dimmed as she turned to me. “You’re here about your sister, aren’t you? Everything’s set up in the other room. Just let me know when you’re ready.” She opened another door and I felt a cold blast of air before it shut behind her.

“I’m going to guess this is your first time,” said Renfrew.

“The second. When my mother died I had to do this. But that was a few years ago.”

“It’s never easy, but it’s simple. When you’re ready, we’ll open the curtain and you’ll see your sister through the glass.”

“I’m ready,” I lied. Who had ever been ready for a moment like that?

“Okay, here we go.” Renfrew opened the curtain and I held my breath. Ruthie stood next to a body that was draped with a sheet, lying atop a narrow table. She nodded at us and pulled back the shroud, revealing a woman’s head and shoulders. Blood pounded in my ears as I stared through the glass. The woman lying there had shoulder-length black hair hanging loose, Ophelia suspended in midair. Her ivory skin was dotted with freckles and her pale rosebud mouth looked unusually small.

“Lily?” Renfrew prompted.

When my mother drowned, the water bloated her features and cast a blue pallor over her. It was clear death had staked its claim. This woman could have been sleeping.

When I opened my mouth, the air I’d held in rushed out of my chest and I had to gasp for my next breath. “That’s not Claudia.”

“Take a good, long look at her, now. I know you’ve got to be jet-lagged and exhausted…”

“That woman isn’t my sister,” I said. “I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

CHAPTER 4

“You just admitted you haven’t even talked to your sister in four months,” the detective snarled at me as he paced. “Maybe she changed her hairstyle and you don’t recognize her.”