“Go ahead.” I watched as he texted himself the photos. “The timeline adds up,” I said. “Mariana is at the Elizabeth Trevor House before her wedding to Julian. It’s kept a secret. After they’re married, Julian and Mariana have Beth. Then, a few years later, Mariana’s mother dies, and her will leaves everything to Julian instead of Mariana. Including her secret papers.”
“Julian would learn of the secret for the first time,” Michael said. “We have to assume the premarital baby wasn’t Julian’s, then.”
“Probably not, but who knows?” I took my phone back. “Either way, he’d be angry, but especially if the baby wasn’t his.”
“So Beth Greer has a half sibling.” Michael picked up his forgotten coffee and sipped it, thinking.
“A half sister,” I said.
His eyebrows rose. “How do you know the baby was a girl?”
Because I saw her standing at the edge of the drop behind the Greer mansion, her blond hair blowing in the wind. I saw her go over. I’ve heard her voice on my phone, telling me she’s still here. “Think about it,” I said. “The woman’s handwriting on the murder notes. The woman seen at the crime scene who resembles Beth. The fact that no physical evidence ever tied Beth to the crimes. Because it wasn’t her, but it was the next best thing. It was her sister.”
“We need documents.” Michael rubbed his temple. “A birth certificate. Patient records from the unwed mothers’ home. Some type of ID so we can track this woman and find out where she is, what her life has been, if she’s still alive.”
“She isn’t still alive,” I said.
“You don’t know that.”
I did. There were some things I knew better than Michael did. The woman who had pounded on the door of Julian’s study had definitely not been alive.
“I’ve been working on the handwriting samples you sent me,” Michael was saying, making rapid notes on his phone. “The Claire Lake PD never released a photo of the original notes, but I’m sure I can find something. A photo we can compare to the handwriting you saw in Julian Greer’s study.” He continued typing, his coffee forgotten again. “It’s possible that Mariana’s first baby died and we’re completely off track, which is why we need records. But to track down this lead—Jesus, Shea, we have so much work to do.”
He was right. We had a lot of work to do, and all of it was important. And it was possible I was wrong.
But I wasn’t wrong. I had heard Mariana’s voice. Is she bitter, or is she sweet?
Sometimes she was so sweet, but other times . . . Well, I don’t like to think about it.
* * *
—
When my phone rang hours later, at one o’clock in the morning, I wasn’t sleeping. I knew who was calling. I picked up the receiver and said, “Beth?”
“I can never sleep,” Beth said. “Can you?”
I sat up, wide awake. “I won the game,” I said.
“Did you?” Her voice didn’t have its usual fight. She sounded tired, so tired.
Still, I pushed on. “Your mother had a child before she married your father. You have a sister. I’m going to find her.”
Beth sighed. “You’re going to regret that. But, then, it’s too late. You’ve already met Lily.”
Lily. “Is that her real name?”
“What a curious question,” Beth said. “It’s the only name I’ve ever known her by. And I’ve known her a long, long time.”
“She’s dead, isn’t she?”