I want to continue my research into the woman in the picture with Evan, but Hector likely has the library watched now. After what happened last time, I’m not in any kind of mood to see him again, or be tossed around in another confrontation.
Without those old newspaper resources, investigating is sure to be much more difficult this time, but I’m unwilling to give up.
Staring at the photo I’d printed of the unknown woman, I search every square inch for answers. I stare at the photo for so long that I feel like my eyes are going cross. Surely I’ve memorized every inch by now.
Then, I see it. I tiny little mark, barely noticeable, at the base of the woman’s throat.
“Bethany,” I say, lifting her attention away from the needlepoint she’s taken up while sitting beside me, idle, in my room. S
