Naomi's POV

She'd drawn twelve of them.

Twelve shadowy figures.

All with Miranda's face.

I sat on the nursery floor with her sketchbook open in my lap, heart racing as I traced each crayon outline with shaky hands. They weren't all identical-some had shorter hair, others wore different clothes. But the eyes... the eyes were definitely mine.

And that's what terrified me most, it was scary to get answers to them.

"Sweetheart," I whispered as Miranda played with blocks nearby, trying ...