Tasha looked up sharply. "Mancini. Like the family massacre?"

"Twenty-seven years ago. Same year I was born." Kimberly's voice was tight. "Tasha, what if I'm connected to them? What if that's why I was kidnapped?" she asked, dialing her mother's number again.

Still no response.

"Hold on." Tasha pulled out her laptop. "Let me enhance this properly. And send me those other photos from Xavier's study."

Kimberly transferred the images via Bluetooth, grainy photos she'd taken in dim light, some ...