Chapter 3

A little past two in the afternoon, someone stopped by the maternity ward.

She was in her early thirties, wearing a dark blue coat, with a round face and two short braids that made her look pleasant enough. She stood in the doorway holding a mesh bag of apples.

She said, "Hi, Michelle. I'm Linda Bloom from the room next door. I had a baby girl yesterday too. Same day as you.

"That feels like something, doesn't it? I thought I'd come say hello and bring a few gifts for your little one."

Mom was still worn thin from the delivery, but she welcomed the company. "Come on in. Have a seat."

Linda was Paula's cousin. Chloe's real mother.

In my previous life, she was the one who shoved her daughter into the Reed family and stole everything from me.

Now here she was, smiling wide, her eyes sweeping over me with something sharp flickering behind them.

"Oh, she's beautiful. Those big eyes. She's like a little doll from a picture book. Mind if I hold her a minute?" She reached out her hands.

Ice shot down my spine. I let out a shriek that could wake the dead, my face going red as I kicked and thrashed like a wild thing.

Mom pulled me tight against her. "Sorry, Linda. She's picky about who holds her. Anyone but me, she screams her head off."

Linda pulled her hands back. "That's all right. Babies are like that."

She let it go and started talking with Mom about taking care of a newborn.

They went back and forth about diaper brands, which blankets were softest, and whether Mom ought to be eating more oatmeal or scrambled eggs while she got her strength back.

While they talked, Linda eased closer to Mom without making a big show of it.

Every time she got within three steps of my crib, I'd start fussing. The moment she backed off, I'd settle down.

After the third time, Mom noticed. She didn't say anything, but her arms tightened around me.

Linda stayed more than half an hour before she headed out. At the door, she said, "If you get worn out, you call me over to help with the baby. I'm right next door."

Mom gave a polite nod. Once the door clicked shut, she looked down at me with a thoughtful expression. "Hannah, do you not like that woman?"

I nuzzled against her palm and blinked.

She smiled a little, but her eyes stayed serious. "All right. I hear you. I'll keep her away from you from now on."

By evening, Dad came back. Something was eating at him.

He shut the door and kept his voice low. "I had George look into Paula. She's not regular staff at the hospital. She's a temp worker who transferred there last month.

"Her paperwork came through the factory union office, but Hugh Levy over there says he never signed off on her."

Mom's eyes went wide. "What does that mean?"

Dad went on. "And that hallway light last night. It wasn't burned out. Somebody loosened the bulb on purpose. I checked the socket. Fresh marks on the threads.

"Whoever faked union papers and messed with that light ahead of time is one of ours. They are from the town."

Mom's face went white. She clutched me closer, her voice shaking. "So that woman last night wasn't really here for any tests."

Dad didn't answer. He sat down beside her, took her hand, and smoothed my hair. "Don't be scared. I talked to George.

"He'll help me dig into this. I'll have security keep an eye out too. From now on, nobody touches Hannah unless I'm right here. Nobody."

She nodded, her jaw set. I shut my eyes and pressed my face into her warmth.

Dad was already moving. Twenty years ahead of last time.

*****

After we left the hospital and went home to Millbrook, everything seemed quiet on the surface.

Our place was a white clapboard house on Maple Street. Two bedrooms, a small living room, worn linoleum floors, and one bathroom at the end of the hall.

It sat on a quiet road with big oak trees out front and a gravel driveway that crunched when anyone pulled in. The furnace in the basement kept the whole place warm.

Before my first month was up, I kept playing the same game. I only knew my mother.

If she were nearby, I would stay calm. The second she left my sight, I wailed like the world was ending.

That meant she stayed glued to me around the clock. Nobody else got a moment alone with me.

Not the ladies from church who came by with casseroles, not the neighbor from across the street, not even Lucy Snow, who always shadowed my grandma, Grace.

Meanwhile, Dad kept digging. With George's help, he tracked down Paula's place in a trailer park on the edge of the county.

In that rusted-out trailer, they found a half-burned letter tucked beneath the stove.

The few lines still readable were written in careful cursive script.

The paper was plain white bond with a watermark. The kind they used at the county clerk's office. Which meant whoever wrote that letter worked somewhere with access to county supplies.

Dad was on the phone with George from the garage, his voice barely above a murmur. "So the person pulling Paula's strings is here in Millbrook. Maybe living right on Maple Street."

There was a snake in the grass. I'd known that from the start.

But I couldn't speak yet. I couldn't point a finger.

All I could do was wait. Either he'd figure it out himself, or the snake would make a mistake.