“Apparently, he heard the sound again, another shot, around twenty minutes later. Only then did he decide to investigate. He walked out of his house and toward the park, where he claims to have stood for a good five minutes before turning around to go home.” As an afterthought Shelly added, “And that’s when he saw your front door open and called the police for the second time.”

“What other shot?” Winnie said. But Shelly was shaking her head.

“They don’t know. There’s something else, Winnie.” She wasn’t meeting Winnie’s eyes this time. “There were footprints in the blood.” Shelly wiped her nose with the back of her hand and looked down at the sheet. “They weren’t yours or Nigel’s or that woman’s.” She shot Winnie a look. “They were small.”

“A child’s? What do you mean?”

“They weren’t Sam’s. And he had no trace of blood on his person or clothes,” Shelly said quickly. “But that’s why that detective was here wanting to talk to you.”

“About footprints?” She was so confused. She had no idea what these footprints were about, but how long until they made the connection between her and Josalyn Russel?

“I don’t understand what you’re saying, Shelly.”

“Look, I don’t know, either. They’ve questioned the Russel woman’s family, and they have no idea what she was doing in Washington. She was from Ohio, Winnie.” Shelly leaned closer, her eyes so bloodshot Winnie flinched. “Why was she at your house?”

Winnie could smell the coffee on her sister’s breath. She suddenly felt the lack of air creeping up on her and closed her eyes. Her son was safe, her son was safe.

When she opened her eyes, Shelly was staring at her intently. Winnie found this incredibly annoying. Whatever lecture there was she didn’t want to hear it; her twin brother had murdered her husband and was on the loose somewhere. Winnie braced herself for a fight. She wasn’t going to lose Samuel, not for some nutjob like Terry Russel.

“The Russel woman had a bunch of stuff in her bag…papers, an email. There was even a police report about a Jane Doe…” Shelly glanced toward the door and Winnie wanted to scream her impatience. “The email is what I have to tell you about. Someone was writing to this woman and telling her things about Sam.” Winnie felt light-headed. She gripped the rail of the bed and stared hard at her sister. She didn’t have the energy to respond in the way that Shelly wanted. “What things…?”

“That Sam was her dead daughter’s son. And that you had stolen him from her.”

Winnie didn’t have to feign shock; the look of panic on her face made Shelly squirm in her seat. “Police think she was trying to kidnap Sam.”