Page 29 of Distress Signal

So shocked by the sight before me, I stumbled backward, tripped over Finn’s foot, and landed hard on my ass on the cold floor.

“Are you okay?” Finn asked, rushing to help me up.

I was shaking uncontrollably now, but not from grief and despair.

No, this was allrage.

What the actualfuck?

“That’s not my sister.”

“But her ID?—”

“I don’t give a fuck about the ID!” I screamed at Lane, panic rising in my chest. I turned to Finn. “Does she look like me?”

“W-what?” he asked, clearly stunned by my outburst.

“Does. She. Look. Like. Me?”

Reluctantly, Finn shuffled closer to the dead woman, taking a moment to study her, eyes darting between the two of us. Goddesses, I wanted to laugh—if hysterically. This was un-fucking-real.

“Ahh…no?” he said, though his inflection made it sound like a question.

“What’s your point, Miss Lindsey?” the sheriff asked impatiently.

“We’retwins,” I gasped out. “That woman isnotmy sister.”

“Well, there’s a certain degree of change a body undergoes after death—” Stockman started, but I cut him off.

“Iknewit,” I hissed.

The inkling I’d had a moment ago fully formed.

Lainey wasn’t dead.

“Knew what?” Stockman asked.

“Lainey’s not dead,” I said aloud. “I’d be able to tell if she was.” Once again, I locked my attention on Finn, the only personin this room who could possibly understand. “Right? If something happened to West, you wouldknow.”

Like a deer caught in headlights, he stared wide-eyed at me for a beat—then nodded before turning to Lane. “She’s right, bro. If he was gone, I’d know.”

Lane rolled his eyes. “You know I don’t believe in that woo-woo shit.”

“Youdon’t have to,” Finn said evenly. “You just have to trust thatwedo. Like when West got shot in that raid?” I had no idea what he was talking about except it likely had to do with his time in the Army. The sheriff clearly understood the reference because he nodded, if a bit warily. “Iknew, Lane. Felt the pain as surely as if the bullet had gone through my own chest.”

The sheriff looked at me—studied me, his shrewd cop’s gaze seeming to see right through me, down to my core.

“Are you absolutely certain this isn’t your sister?”

Did he…did he think I was lying? That I’d deluded myself into thinking this woman wasn’t my sister simply so I wouldn’t have to deal with the grief?

What a fucking joke.

“Without a doubt. Do a DNA test if you need to. I’ll happily give a sample. But we’renaturallyblonde,” I said, tugging on my own hair, which I’d never once dyed. Lainey hadn’t either. “No dark roots to be found. Or, you know, you could just check her left foot.” Placing a steadying hand on the edge of the table, I slipped off my tennis shoe and sock, lifting my foot and showing them all the tattoo, the tiny camera, inked on the inside of my left heel. “She’ll have a matching one if it’s Lainey.”

Stockman moved to the foot of the table and lifted the sheet, his gloved fingers twisting the woman’s leg gently to the side, searching for the ink.

There was nothing to be found save smooth, unmarred skin.