More specifically, the exposed strip of skin between her jeans and the hem of her blouse.
Dana had apparently gotten a new tattoo.
I could see only part of it.
Black lines.
A curve that looked like an eyebrow.
Part of an eye.
Maybe the side of a nose.
Then Dana adjusted her shirt.
The image disappeared.
Something cold moved through my chest.
No.
Impossible.
There were a thousand explanations.
It could have been anyone.
A celebrity.
A relative.
A random portrait.
Tyler was five.
He saw familiar faces everywhere.
Once he had pointed at an insurance commercial and insisted the actor was his preschool teacher.
I told myself not to be insane.
Dana noticed me staring.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
My voice sounded almost normal.
Almost.
“I think I forgot the birthday candles.”
“They’re not on the cake?”
“I bought number candles. A four and a zero. I think they’re in the cabinet above the refrigerator.”
“I’ll grab them.”
That was easier than I expected.
Dana followed me inside.
My heart was beating so hard that I could feel it in my throat.
I opened one cabinet and pretended to search.
“No. Not there.”
