Page 102 of Mirror Image

She looks away, blinking hard, as if weighing how much truth she can risk.

“You think Mary had some perfect life,” she says. “The doting parents, the expectations, the plans. Maybe they love her. Maybe they mean well. But they’ll never understand what she has to do.”

“Is that who we’re talking about? Doug and Terry?”

“Maybe,” she says. “Theoretically.”

“And what exactly does she—whoever—have to do?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she says. “Because Sam? Sam can move through the world without anyone paying attention. Sam can disappear.”

I throw my hands up. “But that’s ridiculous. Mary is a grown woman. She can go wherever she wants. She’s—”

She interrupts, voice suddenly sharp: “Have you ever seen Die Hard?”

I blink. The left turn is jarring, but I nod. “Yes. Of course.”

“End of the movie,” she says. “Hans Gruber tells McClane: ‘When you steal $600 million, they will find you—unless they think you’re already dead.’”

I open my mouth to ask what the hell that has to do with anything—

But then it hits me.

If Doug and Terry think Mary is gone . . .

If they believe Sam survived instead . . .

Then Mary—the Mary she truly is—can slip off the map entirely.

Oh my God. It’s tragic. And it’s brilliant.

She gives a small, weary smile when she sees the understanding finally settle into me. “Not easy, though. Pretending to be someone pretending to be someone else. Leaving breadcrumbs—just enough to follow, not enough to question.”

I stare at her. “Why am I here?”

She takes a breath, steadying herself. “Because I need help.”

“Then come back to the hospital,” I say. “Whatever this is, we’ll—”

“No,” she says sharply. “I’m not going back.”

“What? But why?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“How can I help you if I don’t know?”

She reaches down and hauls up a cobalt shopping bag. It thuds heavily on the bench between us.

“You begin here.”

I open the top and feel my breath vanish.

Red leather.

Dozens of journals. Julian’s journals.

Realization flashes through me like a bolt of lightning, and suddenly Shannon’s words echo in my ears: