Marie’s password was child’s play; Her birthday spelled backwards, everyone had always known, she hardly changed anything.
Jessie tapped it in, smirked when the home screen unlocked, slid her finger across the screen, and opened the mailbox: One from the clinic: “Your results are ready.” The subject read.
Jessie’s pulse quickened, her eyes popped into the phone. She opened the email, scrolled fast. There it was… black and white scan, dates, confirmation: eight weeks pregnant.
Jackpot! She tilted her head backward in satisfaction.
Quickly, she forwarded it to her own phone, fingers flying. Deleted the sent mail from Marie’s folder. Careful. Swift.
Then she swiped to photos, there had to be something else, something more bloody, enough to break Marie once and for all. Something cold t
