See Jane Run

Chapter Two

T WO

Riley squinted at the birth certificate and turned it over and over in her hands. She had no idea why, but she studied every inch of it, certain that at some point there would be a “Made in China” or “Property of Disney” stamp. There was nothing.

“It looks authentic enough,” Riley said with a frown. “I wonder who it belongs to.”

Shelby grabbed the paper and scanned it. “It belongs to Jane Elizabeth O’Leary,” she said. “O’Leary, that’s Irish, right? Oh, me lucky charms! Maybe this kid was the leprechaun your parents stole for their pot of gold.” She looked over the paper at Riley and raised her eyebrows.

“My parents don’t have a pot of gold.”

Shelby jutted her chin toward Riley’s new attached bathroom. “Your own bathroom equals pot of gold in my book.”

“You’re so lame. So, Jane O’Leary, born May 14 to Seamus and Abigail O’ Leary.” Riley shook the paper in her hands. “Who are these people?”

“Ooh, baby Jane almost might have stolen your thunder. She was born a whole thirteen months earlier. Maybe your mother had baby rage and had to do away with her.”

Riley snorted. “We do know how violent my mother gets.” She yanked an Easter turtleneck out of one of the boxes. “I mean just look at this. Bunnies. Easter eggs. Nadine Spencer is truly a madwoman.” She tossed the turtleneck back but couldn’t bring herself to toss the certificate.

Shelby gestured to it. “Are you going to ask your parents about your phantom sister? Tread lightly; they might knock you off next.” “I can’t ask them about it. They would murder me—for real—if they knew I was in here, going through their stuff. I mean, the baby book wasn’t exactly in plain sight.” She chewed the inside of her cheek. “Seriously, who is this kid?”

“Hey, if you’re that curious about ole Jane, Wiki that crap.” Riley carefully—but quickly—shoved everything but the baby

book and her dad’s sweatshirt back in the boxes and slid them back into place.

“Come on,” she said, pulling Shelby by the hand.

They crossed the hall back into Riley’s room. She yanked her laptop from under her bed and fired it up, tapping the baby’s name into the Google search engine.

“OK, background check, background check, background check—only thirty-nine ninety-five. No on that one. Jane Elisabeth—Elisabeth with an s—is an ASU alum.”

Shelby rooted through her backpack then stuck her arm into the Ruffles bag she yanked out. “She would be too old, unless our Jane is a genius. She’s supposed to be only a year older than us.”

“Then I’m assuming the obituary of eighty-nine-year old Jane Elizabeth O’Leary of Skokie, survived by her eleven adult children, is not our chick either.” Riley chewed her bottom lip while she scanned page after page. “Our kid doesn’t show up.” She typed in the name of each of the parents separately and came up blank once more; it was the same when she tried the last name plus the name of the city, plus every other combination she could think of.