My lips parted.
“I never said that.”
“I heard your voice.”
“I never said that.”
Liam stared at me.
Detective Ruiz slowly lowered her tablet.
“Dr. Carter,” she said, “are you certain it was your sister?”
Liam looked at me again.
The color drained from his face.
“It sounded exactly like her.”
My skin prickled.
Eight years ago.
Long before the fake forensic portal.
Long before I requested an audit.
Someone had sent my brother a call using my voice.
Or a recording assembled well enough to convince the person who had known me my entire life.
“That kind of technology wasn’t widely available then,” I said.
“Not like today,” Ruiz replied. “But voice splicing existed. Especially if someone had enough recordings.”
I thought of Ethan’s early obsession with saving everything.
Voicemails.
Video clips.
Old phone messages.
He used to call himself sentimental.
My hands began to shake.
