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“Her.”

Taylor freezes the image.

“You recognize her?”

“Yes.”

The girl looks about sixteen. Long dark hair. Brown eyes. A small scar cuts through one eyebrow.

“Daniel sent me her photograph.”

“When?” Sean asks.

“Three years ago.”

“What did he tell you?”

“That she might be Sage.”

Sage stares at the screen.

“She doesn’t look like me.”

“I know.”

“Did you tell Daniel that?”

“Yes. He said appearances change as children get older.”

“That much?”

“I was desperate.”

Sage squeezes my hand.

She isn’t judging me.

That somehow makes it worse.

“What’s her name?” I ask.

Taylor opens the file beside the photograph.

“Marisol Reyes.”

“Is she missing?”

“Yes. She disappeared four years ago from a foster home in Kentucky.”

“Four years ago,” Sean says. “Price sent Hayley the photograph a year after Marisol disappeared.”

“He knew she wasn’t Sage,” I whisper.

Taylor scrolls through the file.

“There’s a second note.”

“What does it say?”