“Claire Holloway,” he repeated. “Sarah used to work with her.” Rosalind let out a short breath through her nose and shook her head once. “Jack, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He nodded. Reached into his pocket. Set the folded paper on the counter between them. She looked at it. Didn’t touch it. “The DNA came back this afternoon,” he said.
Her eyes lifted slowly to his. “And?” “It’s not Sarah’s.” Neither of them moved. Jack watched the words hit her. Not with surprise. With calculation. That hurt more than he expected. “It’s yours,” he said. “Claire.” The silence after that was absolute. For one suspended second, she looked exactly like Sarah again. Then she didn’t. The mask didn’t fall all at once.