At the word p/o/lice, Father Thomas flinched.
Daniel noticed.
“Tell her,” he said.
Thomas looked toward the lake.
“Not here.”
“Why?”
“Because the cabin is watched.”
“By whom?”
The priest’s eyes settled on me.
“Your grandmother.”
I nearly laughed.
“My grandparents are d/e/@/d.”
“One set is,” Thomas replied. “The other is not.”
Daniel cursed under his breath.
“You promised Carl you would let her discover it gradually.”
“Carl’s plan is already broken.”
Thomas gestured toward the warning note.
“Lenora knows Claire opened the chest.”
The name meant nothing to me.
“Who is Lenora?”
Daniel answered this time.
“Your maternal grandmother. Evelyn’s mother.”
The woman in the photographs—my biological mother—had not been Elaine Morgan, the laundromat worker who raised me. According to the birth certificate, my mother was Evelyn Bennett.
“Then who was Elaine?”
“Evelyn’s closest friend,” Thomas said. “The woman who escaped with you.”
