Behind her were Vania, Harrison, two detectives, and a deputy state’s attorney named Ruth Ferreira.

The two women looked at each other across eleven feet of hospital room.

Adriana Vance had Maya’s haircut and Maya’s color and was wearing a soft grey top of a kind that Maya owned in three colors.

Up close, in fluorescent light, they did not look remotely alike.

That was the thing Maya was completely unprepared for.

She had spent four months imagining a mirror.

What was standing in front of her was a stranger of roughly her height and build who had done her hair the same way, and it was not uncanny at all, it was shabby — it was a costume in daylight — and something in Maya’s chest that had been clenched since April simply let go.