Chapter 2
I moved the conversation into the music room.
No guests.
No performance.
Imogen sat with her hands supported on a cushion.
A doctor had already checked the bandaging earlier that week after she claimed she injured herself carrying serving trays.
Lie.
Not hers originally.
Odile’s.
I asked Imogen why she protected her.
“She said I’d lose the position.”
Simple.
Then:
“And Mara?”
Imogen looked nervous.
“She said if I mentioned her, she would be taken away again.”
Again.
There it was.
I looked at Odile.
“You threatened the woman too?”
“No.”
“Then who was supposed to take her away?”
Silence.
Rafe entered.
My senior bodyguard.
He had checked the west cottage.
Someone had been living there.
Not recently abandoned.
Currently.
Fresh tea.
Clothes.
Medicine.
Books.
One photograph.
He handed it to me.
My mother.
Young.
Maybe twenty-three.
Beside her stood another woman.
Same face shape.
Same eyes.
Slightly taller.
The woman Imogen described.
On the back:
HELENA & MARIEL — 1993.
I stared.
“Mariel.”
Odile looked away.
Imogen whispered:
“She told me Mara was easier.”
I sat down.
My mother had never told me she had a sister named Mariel.
No family portrait included her.
No stories.
No grave.
Nothing.
“How long has she been at the cottage?”
Imogen answered:
“Three weeks.”
Odile corrected her.
“Five.”
I looked up.
Good.
Truth beginning reluctantly.
“Why?”
Odile sat opposite me.
“Because she came looking for you.”
“What does she want?”
“She says she wants nothing.”
I almost laughed.
People who want nothing rarely hide in forgotten cottages.
Then Odile said:
“She wants you to know what happened to your mother.”
My hands went cold.
“My mother died of heart failure.”
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
Good.
No murder mystery.
Something else.
“She means before that.”
I waited.
Odile looked toward the photograph.
“Your mother didn’t just lose a sister.”
May you like
Then:
“She helped erase one.”
