As I stared at my old face, however, suddenly it shifted again—this time into a photograph I’d never seen before. It was a picture of Hannah and I together in Mercer Manor, talking during a moment I’d long forgotten. Richardmusthave taken the picture—Jonathan Mercer sure as hell hadn’t—but however it had gotten there, I was glad it existed.
I examined the picture closely. Hannah hadn’t fully realized I’d been her daughter until after it had been taken, but Richardhad managed to capture a moment when we’d looked comfortable together. Not quite mother and daughter, but likely the closest he’d been able to get.
Hannah was still out there somewhere, hidden where Daxton would never be able to get his disgusting hands on her. And suddenly, more than anything in the world, I wanted to find her.
