Chapter Thirty-two

A minute didn't pass without Kayla chewing over the birthmark she'd spotted under Anthony's arm. She seldom focused during her meeting. The memory often waltzed in to distract her. As if the thoughts were inescapable. Somehow she wished Clinton would come alive again, but a strong fear laid beneath her desire— a fear she was yet to ferret out the cause. Certainly, she wouldn't wish that Clinton was Anthony by any chance. That schmuck could never be Clinton. Clinton was dead.

She leaned her elbows over the office table and buried her head in her hands, puffing a long sigh. She took her phone, writing every similarity noticed between Anthony and Clinton. Afterward she sent them to Nora, who called her in a jiffy.

“Birthmark under his arm, Clinton's piano lyrics, Sledge, abbreviation and so on. Wow, I think I'm tongue-tied, Kayla. But at least I'm sure a dead person can't live again.”

“I think I'm sliding out of my mind, Nora. Anthony's starting to seem more than just an imposter. That b