“Your daughter has been lying to you her whole life.”
On the back, written in black marker, was one impossible sentence.
I actually laughed.
It was absurd. I mean, Hope had told small lies like any kid, but carrying a lie for her whole life? She had been a baby when I found her… what lie could a baby tell?
The words weren’t just cruel. They didn’t even make sense.
Then I heard someone say my name.
She had been a baby when I found her… what lie could a baby tell?
“Claire?”
I looked across the street.
A woman stood beside a dark blue car. She looked somewhere in her late thirties. Maybe forty.
Dark curls.
Brown eyes.
Something familiar around the mouth.
A woman stood beside a dark blue car.
I stared at her.
My brain understood before I did.
Then I looked down at the woman’s hand.
