I had always considered myself a good judge of character but now I felt like I couldn’t be sure of anything. Despite all the uncertainty part of me was still looking forward to seeing Cris and Rosie again. Taking a deep breath, I exited the bathroom and grabbed my purse and cell phone off the desk.

Looking around to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything, I looked down at the time on the phone in my hand. Biting my lip, I calculated how much time it was going to take me to get to Connecticut. Unable to resist, I opened up the recent call log on my phone and selected Adam’s phone number. I had time to try him one more time before I left.

‘Hello?’ rolled across the line, low and smooth.

My heartrate jumped. ‘Hello? Is this Adam Dominio?’

‘It is, who’s calling?’

‘This is Liz Catalano. I’m sorry to bother you, but I’ve left you a few messages—’

‘Ahh, yes,’ he said, drawing out a long, low whistle. ‘Not a bother, not a bother.’ There was another brief pause. ‘I’m sorry, I got your messages, I just don’t talk much about that side of my family these days. I’m not sure I can be much help to you, honey.’ His voice was almost melodic when he talked. A low, even cadence stringing each syllable together.

‘Please don’t hang up,’ I pleaded, hoping I didn’t sound too desperate. ‘I’m pretty sure you’re my grandfather’s cousin and I haven’t been able to get in touch with many relatives from my biological family. You’re my last hope.’

He exhaled loudly but stayed on the line. A balloon of hope swelled in the pit of my stomach. Maybe I would get some information from him after all.

‘Your last hope? Well, then what can I help you with, Lizzie?’ The way he adjusted my name into a familiar nickname as if he’d known me for years took me aback a little. I wasn’t sure why, but it made me uncomfortable.

‘I just want to connect with some family members and learn more about where I came from. I recently found out I’m adopted and—’

‘Adopted, huh?’ He gave another low whistle. ‘I can see how that would be tough for a girl such as yourself. How old are you, 23? 24?’

A chill ran up my spine and sprawled down my arms, all the way to my fingertips gripping the phone. Something about the way he asked my age in those calm, measured tones made my skin crawl as I thought about how all of TSK’s victims were around that age, not far off from myself and Andie. I shook my head and took a deep breath. He could just be curious to know more about me?

‘Twenty-seven,’ I replied, injecting a false calmness into my voice.