CLAIRE'S POV
Later that night, I’d never had a better sleep.
Chris had sent over all the information he gathered about the person behind Isabella’s paintings. I studied it the entire night—until I finally drifted off.
Then I had a vague dream of a boy, maybe around the age of twelve. I couldn’t see his face clearly, but I was certain he was frightened. And I…helped him hide.
“Don’t be scared! If you keep quiet, the bad guys won’t find you.”
“I’ll keep you safe.”
“I’m leaving now. I’m Claire—remember me, okay?”
And the dream ended.
I snapped my eyes open, only to find it was already morning.
Slowly sitting up, I tried to remember what that dream was about. I racked my brain for a few moments, but nothing came. I couldn’t remember anything, or that boy from my childhood.
Maybe it
