They were hideous. Obscene. But Alex forced herself to look at each one even when the sandwich Meredith had forced down her throat threatened to claw its way back up. “I’m sorry,” Alex said for the seventh time, shaking her head at the picture of a girl being brutalized. I thought my dreams were bad before . . . “I don’t recognize her.” Daniel put another on the table in front of her while Chase looked on in stony silence. Meredith sat on the other side of her while Daniel’s friend Luke sat on the sofa in the living room with his computer on his lap, watching in the same thoughtful way he’d watched her at the Underground. It seems like it’s been years. But it had been less than twenty-four hours since she’d nearly been killed. “Alex?” Daniel murmured and Alex forced herself to look at the eighth picture. “I’m—” She frowned, the denial forgotten.
