According to the records, I’d been enrolled in an experimental program investigating biological processes associated with aging. My husband’s company was listed among its financial backers.
Then Dr. Reeves handed me a mysterious envelope someone had left for me.
Inside was an old photograph of a silver-haired woman in a hospital bed. She looked remarkably like me.
On the back, someone had written:
MARGARET IS NOT THE FIRST. ASK DANIEL WHAT HAPPENED TO THE OTHER THREE.
The photograph was dated twenty-seven years earlier. Beside the woman stood a young man who looked exactly like Daniel.
Before I could ask another question, someone knocked on the office door.
“Margaret?” Daniel called. “I know you’re in there.”
I confronted him, demanding the truth.
He finally admitted the woman in the photograph was Evelyn Mercer, someone deeply important to his father, a physician who had become obsessed with finding a treatment for her neurological condition.
