“I do not want my sister near my baby.”

Dr. Aston’s eyebrows rise. He glances at the nurse and then back at me. “I understood you intended for your sister to adopt your baby. Is that incorrect?”

“It was correct,” I say. “But I changed my mind.”

“I see. Well, first things first.” He looks up as a woman appears in the doorway. “Ah. You want to do this now?”

“If it’s convenient,” the woman says.

The doctor nods and gathers his notes. “We’ll finish this in a bit, Fern. Don’t worry, we’ll get it all sorted out.”

Rose has been saying that for months. Don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine. And now, here we are.

The woman comes into the room. She doesn’t look like a doctor to me. She is wearing normal clothes. She is in her mid- to late forties, with blue eyes and dark blond hair that she wears in a long braid down her back.

“You don’t look like a doctor,” I say.

“That’s because I’m not.” She holds up a lanyard. “Detective Sara Brookes. Is it all right if I ask you some questions?”

I take a moment to process this. A police detective. Then I realize. I kidnapped a baby. She must be here to arrest me.

Detective Brookes sits in the seat that Dr. Aston just vacated and pulls out a small notebook and pen. “I like your bracelet,” she says bizarrely. I can only deduce that making small talk helps perps to “talk.” “Is that a bush engraved on there?”

“A fern,” I correct. “Because that’s my name.”

“It’s lovely. The name and the bracelet.”

We stare at each other for a moment.

“Congratulations, by the way,” Detective Brookes says. “I hear you had a baby girl. Where is she?”

“She’s in the pediatric wing,” I tell her. “With my sister.”

Detective Brookes looks surprised. “Why isn’t she in here with you?”

I frown. “Because I kidnapped her. Didn’t you hear?”

Detective Brookes sits back in her chair. “You kidnapped your own child?”

I nod. “At least that’s what my sister is telling people.”

“I wonder why she’d say that.” She gives me a long assessing stare. “Why don’t you tell me a little about your sister?”

The question is too broad. I can’t even begin to narrow it, so I just pluck random facts out of my mind, as if from a hat. “She’s the same age as me.”

“Oh. You’re twins?”

“Fraternal twins. And we are very different. She’s short, and I’m tall. She has no sensory issues, but I do. She’s diabetic, and I’m not.”

The detective writes on her notepad. “Are you close?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t know where the pediatric wing is.”

She smiles. “What I mean is … do you spend a lot of time together?”

“I suppose so.”

“And she is … a good sister?”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s … kind? Does nice things for you?”

“Sometimes.”

“And other times?”

I throw up my hands. “I don’t know. She’s just Rose, okay?”

I’m frustrated by this conversation. I just want my baby. I’m not sure what Rose being a good sister has to do with anything.

The detective nods. “I understand your mother passed away very recently,” she says, taking the conversation in another strange direction. “I’m sorry to hear that. The hospital staff indicated that you visit weekly.”

“You’ve spoken to Sun Meadows? Why?”

“Just part of our investigation. Your mother’s cause of death isn’t clear, so we just wanted to check up on a few things. We understand that your sister hadn’t visited in a very long time until she went the night before your mother died. Why was that? Didn’t she have a good relationship with your mother?”

“Rose?” I laugh. “She didn’t have a relationship with Mum at all.”

“She never spoke to her?”

“Well, no one spoke with Mum. After her overdose, Mum couldn’t say two words. She improved a little over the last year. She was starting to talk in short sentences.” I think of what she said to me about my baby. Don’t give Rose the baby. “Recently she told me not to give Rose my baby.”

If only I’d listened.

Detective Brookes writes some more in her notebook. Then she frowns thoughtfully. “That’s a pretty bold statement. Why do you think she would say that?”

I look at her. “I don’t understand. Why are you asking me about Rose and my mother? Aren’t you here to charge me with kidnapping?”

She smiles. “Not at this point.” She taps my bracelet with her pen. “Let me guess, your sister has a matching bracelet?”

“Yes,” I say. “But with a rose on it.”

“Because her name is Rose.”

I nod. She rises to her feet. “You’ve been very helpful. That’s all I need for now.”

“Wait!” My voice is hoarse. The detective raises her eyebrows. “Will I get my baby back?”

More than anything, I wish I had the ability to read other people’s facial expressions. Because when Detective Brookes narrows her eyes and says, “Leave it with me,” I have absolutely no idea what it means.

* * *

An hour passes. Then two. I’m in hour three when I recognize the person loitering in the doorway.

“Owen?”

“Hey, Fernie.”

I blink. It’s him. It’s really him. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugs. His hands are tucked into his pockets and he seems as close to shy as I’ve ever seen him. “Can’t a guy visit his sister-in-law in the nuthouse?”

He’s had a haircut. Which isn’t unexpected, I suppose, since he’s been away a year. It suits him like this. He appears to have lost weight and gained muscle. Owen had always been well built, but these last few years he’d become a bit softer looking.

London must be treating him well.

“How did you know I was here?” I ask.

“Rose called me. She does that when she gets herself into trouble.”