I hated doing it, but Bev had spent weeks trying to tell me something was wrong.
I wasn’t going to ask her to prove it again.
***
By the time I reached home the following Friday, my anger had burned down into something colder.
Stephanie met me in the hallway.
“I’m scared she’s trying to become you.”
“Anna? You’re home early.”
Then I saw my necklace.
“Take it off.”
Her hand flew to her throat.
“What?”
“The necklace, Stephanie.”
“Anna? You’re home early.”
“Anna…”
“Take it off.”
She unclasped it and closed it in her fist.
“Who is Terry? Who is that woman you’ve been talking to?”
Her face emptied.
“How do you know that?”
“Anna…”
“I put a camera in my bedroom.”
Stephanie stared at me.
Then footsteps sounded upstairs.
Bev came down holding her blanket.
Stephanie went pale.
“You’re awake?”
“I put a camera in my bedroom.”
Bev moved closer to me.
“I always pretend to sleep, Aunt Stephanie. I hear you in Mom’s room.”
Stephanie covered her mouth.
“Oh, Bev.”
“Don’t,” I said.
She looked at me.
“Oh, Bev.”
“Don’t make her comfort you.”
Stephanie lowered her hands.
I pointed toward the living room.
“Sit down.”
“Anna, I can explain.”
