She said she had finally found her.
The next night, Rebecca’s house burned.
I looked at Sadie.
She had gone completely pale.
“You never told me that.”
“Christopher told me not to.”
“What else did he tell you not to tell me?”
Her silence was answer enough.
“Sadie.”
“He said your mother might still be alive.”
My knees weakened.
“And?”
Sadie looked toward the bedroom door.
“And he thought she killed mine.”
The words passed through me slowly.
My mother.
Alive.
Rebecca dead.
Christopher dead.
The same secret binding them all together.
I looked down at his final lines.
If I’m gone, trust Sadie.
Do not trust my father.
And Claire—
I am begging you.
Whatever you discover, do not go looking for Evelyn.
She already knows where you are.
The letter slipped from my fingers.
For a long time neither Sadie nor I spoke.
Downstairs, Paisley laughed at something on television.
Mason called her annoying.
Normal sounds.
Beautiful sounds.
Sounds belonging to a life I suddenly understood had been built over a graveyard of lies.
“Christopher’s father is dead,” I finally said.
Sadie’s expression tightened.
“What?”
“Thomas Hale died ten years ago. Christopher went to his funeral.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Sadie shook her head.
“Christopher told me his father was alive.”
I stared at her.
“He said not to trust him.”
“But Christopher’s father died.”
“I saw the obituary.”
“Then why would Christopher write—”
A knock sounded downstairs.
Three slow knocks.
Sadie and I both froze.
Another knock.
Mason shouted from the living room.
“Mom! Someone’s here!”
I hurried into the hallway.
Sadie followed.
“Don’t open it,” she whispered.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
I moved down the stairs.
