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the woman for a minute before pulling her gaze to the flyer in her hand. The four-color brochure depicted ethereal stained-glass works and announced the artist’s appearance the next day at the Blue Rain Gallery, in West Annapolis, near the historic area. Even though she’d lived here for the last nineteen years, she’d been to that part of town only a few times.
    When she walked to another door and plucked the flyer the woman had stuck there, however, she discovered that it wasn’t for the gallery at all. She looked around. That one and all the other flyers announced the opening of a car wash. The deluge of flyers, then, was a cover. Her finger slid across the edge of the one she’d been given—a message meant just for her.

CHAPTER 4
    T he next day, Amy opened her refrigerator door, stared at the rows of organic yogurt, and pulled out one along with the container of fresh strawberries. When the toaster dinged, she lifted out the Pop-Tart and set it on a plate, then heaped yogurt and fruit on top. She glanced at the clock: noon, the usual breakfast time for one who worked into the night and slept all morning. She hadn’t slept, though. She felt as though she’d ingested four cups of Fair trade French roast coffee on an empty stomach.
    Orn’ry flapped his wings and squawked. “Popcorn!”
    He didn’t talk very clearly, but she recognized the request for food. She poured in fresh birdseed and changed the water. “I’ve got to go out for a while. Be good.” She pointed at him. “Don’t make me cover you.” Luckily she had only one apartment butting up against hers.
    She’d decided to wait on talking to Bill Hammond. She grabbed the flyer from where she’d stuck it on the fridge. “Let’s see what this is about first.”
    As soon as she reached for the door, Orn’ry startedmaking his plaintive sound. Once the door opened, he went into screech mode, and she quickly left. She headed for the Blue Rain Gallery, not with trepidation but a desperation that thrummed through her veins. That’s where she would find the truth—or at least the beginning of it.
    They call us Offspring.
    They. Who were they? Who was Lucas? More importantly, why did the thought of him being dead leave a hollow feeling in her chest?
    She was actually wearing civilized clothing instead of the cotton pants and tank tops she usually wore. As she pulled out of her allotted space, she caught the movement of a car in the rearview mirror. The man behind the wheel had dark sunglasses and bushy hair. When she turned left, so did the car. It fell back, though, and other cars filled in until she couldn’t see it anymore. Still, her gaze flitted to the mirror as often as it watched what was ahead of her during the drive.
    When she reached the designated address, she saw the white car drive past. Just as her heart started thumping, she saw that the man behind the wheel didn’t resemble the one she’d seen leaving her lot. He had wispy blond hair and, more important, wasn’t looking at her.
    â€œYou’re getting good and paranoid now, Amy girl.”
    The building had once been a Victorian two-story home that, like others in the area, was now converted to commercial space. Blue neon limned the windows and set off the white exterior.
    As she walked toward the entrance, her tongue felt like a towel in her mouth. A man stood inside thefront window, and he was so still that she wondered if he was a statue. Bells tinkled when she pushed the door open. She expected harp music to match the cool blue lighting instead of U2’s soulful song “One.” Light poured through stained-glass panels depicting nature scenes that were painfully exquisite. A deer nuzzled her fawn in one, and a rabbit and wolf played together in another, both set against an outer-space-like background.
    People milled about, talking softly as though they were in church, and indeed