When he saw her, grief moved across his face.
“Rebecca’s girl.”
Sadie stepped backward.
“You knew my mother?”
Thomas didn’t answer.
He reached inside his coat.
I stiffened.
But he only produced an old photograph.
He held it toward me.
Four people stood in front of a lake cabin.
Christopher.
Rebecca.
Thomas.
And my mother.
Evelyn.
Older.
Much older than she should have been when she supposedly died.
The photograph had a date printed in the corner.
August 14, 2018.
Eight years ago.
My mother had been alive eight years ago.
I pressed one hand against the doorframe to keep myself upright.
“Where was this taken?”
“Michigan.”
“Is she alive now?”
Thomas looked at me for a long moment.
“I don’t know.”
“Did she kill Rebecca?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then what do you know?”
His eyes moved toward the envelope still clutched beneath my arm.
“That Christopher lied to you even in that letter.”
I felt something inside me fracture.
“What lie?”
Thomas glanced toward the street.
“You shouldn’t be standing in the doorway.”
“Answer me.”
He lowered his voice.
“Christopher didn’t find Sadie three years ago.”
