Early that morning, the silence was shattered by a photograph sent from an unrecognized string of characters.
It was the aftermath of the fire seven years ago.
The blackened window frames were twisted in agony; in front of the laboratory ruins stood a slender young boy. Even with his back turned and the image blurred, the oppressive gloom radiating from him was enough to make the blood run cold.
Avery zoomed in.
The boy's right hand was clenched around a silver lighter. A specific nick on the corner caught her eye-a mark she herself had left when she was seven years old.
Coincidence didn't stretch this far. The same silver lighter. The same distinctive dent.
It was impossible.
"Who are you? Where did this photo come from?"
Avery's fingers trembled as she typed her inquiry, but she
