program is one of a kind. You can count on me.” At least until I have what I need.
Finally, the administrator entered the code and opened the door. “Five minutes,” he reminded her.
Hancock didn’t like being outmaneuvered. He’d made that clear when she’d first applied for the position after being recommended by a friend. During the initial interview Hancock had gone so far as to say she appeared to have come out of nowhere. New to the Huntsville area and with only one verifiable credential—Reginald Waters. She wasn’t the administrator’s preferred candidate, but the pressure from an influential and wealthy benefactor of the institute, her friend, had ensured Hancock’s concession if not his approval.
Whatever it took.
Jenna breathed deeply and entered the secured space. The door closed behind her, making the classroom, which was just as stark-white as the rest of the place save for the colorful spines of books, feel cramped and suffocating though it was quite large. She noted the two small security cameras located near the ceiling at each end of the room. The table, flanked by twelve chairs, occupied most of the floor space. Jenna saved her scrutiny of the occupant of one of those chairs in particular for last.
The emotions that invaded her were impossible to define beyond the knee-weakening sort that threatened to stall her heart and steal her breath.
Ten-year-old Diamond had her head bowed like the other children. She stared at the book opened on the sleek white tabletop without so much as a glance up to see who had entered the room. Her long, dark hair fell thick and luxurious around her slender shoulders. A perfect pink bow held her hair securely away from her face and eyes. It was difficult to tell if she wore a blouse or a dress with her seated at the table. Whatever she wore, it, too, was pink. Her skin was smooth with the lightest olive coloring.
Her heart still thudding against her sternum, Jenna reached for some semblance of composure. She wanted to say exactly the right words or do exactly the right thing to ensure she passed this test. But it was difficult to know what that would be, and at the moment her head spun with emotions.
Do this right. Don’t mess up now. She had to find the truth. For weeks she had been living alone with this secret, with the threat of failure and the infinite possibilities of the unknown. The past seven years had been about her search. Her determination to find the truth. Now, maybe, her search was at an end.
Exhausted, Jenna stared at the little girl, and on some level, she wished this were over. That she knew one way or the other right now. Dead or alive?
Guilt assaulted her, stabbing clean through her like daggers. As long as the truth eluded her, this cruel journey that fate had launched seven years ago would never be over. No matter. It was her duty to find the truth no matter how long it took…no matter the cost.
Jenna sat down in the vacant chair closest to Diamond. God, she wanted to see her face more clearly. Seven years was a long time. So much would have changed. Jenna moistened her lips and cleared her throat of the strangling emotions.
“Diamond, I know you don’t like to talk. And that’s okay. I just wanted to stop by and say hello to you and the other children.” The girl didn’t move, much less speak. A couple of the others sent covert glances in Jenna’s direction. “My name is Je—Jane. Miss Jane. I hope to start working here tomorrow. I’ll be teaching art. Do you like to draw or paint, Diamond?”
Utterly still, the child continued to stare at the open pages of the book.
Was she medicated? Jenna had done her research, at least as best she could with what little she had to go on. A verbal answer was rare but any sort of reaction would be better than nothing. Seven years ago they had suspected—
Diamond looked up.
Jenna froze. Every cell in her body seemed to cease functioning. Eyes the color of the palest sky stared back at her. Big, blue eyes as familiar as Jenna’s own were set in that gorgeous olive face. Her heart swelled, blocking her throat. This was her. The eyes. The curve of her cheek… Sweet Jesus, her nose. It was her.
This little girl was Jenna’s child—the baby girl she’d lost seven long years ago.
The urge to reach out—to touch her—was a palpable force. But any wrong move could derail Jenna’s plan.
No matter what she believed—no matter what she felt in her heart—first she had to be able to prove this was her daughter.
As if fate once more intended to pull the rug out from under Jenna’s feet, the little girl opened her mouth and screamed.
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