know what’s happened to Angela.
Red, glowing numbers flipped to 4:01 AM.
Tony’s breathing remained a constant white noise.
Lily took it to mean he’d found peace—that having his wife back meant his mind and body, and probably soul, could relax. Hers would have if she’d been in the same situation.
If she had Cael.
Don’t think about him. Charley always says to get the facts.
Why did Tony drug me to get me if he acts so nice?
Where am I?
What do Charley and James, Wyatt and—- her thoughts stopped as she brought Cael to mind again.
Tony reminded her of Cael, though Cael had another few inches and extra muscle. He also had a kindness beyond measure, always putting her first.
She smiled to herself, imagining him lying behind her, his body against hers, and a sigh escaped.
Friends.
They’d been friends for so long that even their shared birthday didn’t seem to matter to their connection—like it had for Charley and Wyatt, even James and Maggie. Lily had simply never had the overwhelming urge to blend—to take on a final form with anyone .
Yet the tug with Max and Tony held fast to her body and her mind—a sensation she recognized as her physiological attempt to make a permanent and final change.
Lily pressed a hand to her stomach, wishing the action would stop whatever built within her.
Tony’s shifting on her right had her bracing.
His breathing regulated again.
Sleep, Lil. You need sleep. When you get back home, then you can talk to Charley about what to do.
• • •
The private jet reached into the sky and banked left as the sun rose in the east. Cael had boarded at 5:00 AM, having left the house without making a sound. Another five or six hours and he’d be in California.
Charley would be pissed. Wyatt would understand. James would be disappointed, but none of them knew what Cael did.
Tony Jenkins married Angela Evelyn Hayes, daughter of Evelyn Lilian Crane.
Lily’s mother.
Lily’s sister.
No one, not even Lily’s real family, took her from him and got away with it.
Soon, Cael would be on a doorstep.
From there, he’d determine what to do next.
5
The clock’s brightness faded with the rising sun. At 6:59, before any alarm sounded, Lily rose, having spent the entire night staring at each number as it changed. Grateful she could get away with little sleep, she slipped into the bathroom, flipped the lock and grabbed the cell phone again.
A slide to the shower and a spin of the knob had it filling the small room with sound.
She activated the phone, pressing buttons and flipping through the details on various screens. In Tony’s address book, she found one name after another. Scrolling through each letter gave her nothing new to work with. At his own name—Anthony Jenkins—she pulled up the record. He listed Angela Jenkins as his spouse and an address in San Diego, California.
I’m in California? Oh god, oh god, oh god, not here.
She scrolled through more, her fingers shaking with each tap. She found photos of Tony and Angela, Max and a girl she figured had to be Leigh with cascading golden hair, a bright smile and eyes on the melted side of chocolate. Lily would have said the most recent picture meant Leigh had been closer to twelve or thirteen years old, not the ten from the portrait.
Lily opened the email program, searching subject lines and body text for something that would clue her in to why Angela had left or disappeared and how Lily had been taken in her place.
More scrolling resulted in a few additional pictures of Leigh and, in ones dated just two months before, the beautiful brown of her hair had paled by several shades.
Oh, shit.
Lily zoomed in on Leigh’s eyes, but the effect blurred the photo and did not give Lily a glimpse into the color. She searched for close-ups, looking for evidence of her own kind—eyes that would match the paleness of Leigh’s skin—like Lily’s had been when her thirteenth birthday had occurred.
Is Angela a Mimic? Is