Page 137 of After Anna

“I get it, thanks.”

“Good, I’ll get back to my brief. See you at work. When do you come back?”

“Next week, when Caleb goes back to school. Thanks again, bye.” Maggie hung up.

“You’re getting carried away, girl.” Kathy looked over with a frown. “Just because somebody was impersonating Anna doesn’t mean that Noah didn’t kill her.”

“It could.” Maggie felt her pulse quicken as she drove.

“But it doesn’t necessarily, and I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

“I like my hopes up. They’ve been down so long.”

“But it’ll be worse later.” Kathy glanced at Caleb, then lowered her voice. “Face it, Noah killed that girl, whoever she was. He was convicted. There was a lot of evidence against him.”

“But think about it. We know now that the girl was impersonating Anna. Doesn’t it make you wonder if she was lying about Noah?”

“Lying when she said that he was abusing her?”

“Yes, why not?” Maggie shot back. “She was lying about everything else. She was lying about who she was. She was pretending to be my daughter when she wasn’t.”

Kathy looked unconvinced. “Noah lied about Jordan in the hotel room.”

“True.” Maggie sped ahead in the rain, spotting the airport ahead.

“And what about the text he sent Anna? He lied about that.”

“What if he didn’t? What if she sent it herself the way he said? What if he was telling the truth, all along?”

“He wasn’t. You’re getting kooky.” Kathy shook her head.

“But it really makes you think, doesn’t it?” Maggie’s heart lifted. “Stranger things have happened, haven’t they?”

“Yes they have, and to you.”

“Tell me about it!” Maggie found herself smiling for the first time in a long time, heading to the airport exit.

Chapter Sixty-seven

Noah, After

Noah didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he awoke to noises in the hallway. Shuffling, whispering, and panting. He sat up in alarm. It was still nighttime. He could barely see in the darkness. Inmates were opening his cell door.

“Doc, get down here!” Peach whispered.

Two men rushed in like shadows, dragging a third inmate to the far side of the cell under the window. Noah heard rapid breathing and knew the man was in deep trouble.

He grabbed the brown bag, jumped off his bunk, and hustled to the men against the far wall. He crouched over the injured inmate, who lay on his back, his head against the wall, his mouth open.

The man’s chest heaved noisily with each breath. He was barely conscious. His eyes fluttered, the pupils rolling back in his head. Blood soaked his shirt, spreading at a catastrophic rate.

“Doc, you gotta help him!” one of the inmates whispered, his eyes wide.

“I’m outta here!” the other inmate said, bolting out of the cell.

“What happened?” Noah felt the injured inmate’s neck for a pulse. It was weak. The skin was clammy. The body shook. The man panted, in shock.

“He’s cut in the chest! You gotta fix him up!”

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