“Don’t you talk to me about my grandson.” Mr. Laughlin was breathing heavily now.
Rebecca laid a calming hand on his arm. “It wasn’t Mr. Hawthorne who killed Liam,” she said quietly. “Was it?”
Mr. Laughlin shuddered. “Go back to the cottage, Rebecca.”
“No.”
“You used to be such a good girl,” Mr. Laughlin grunted.
“I used to make myself small.” Rebecca’s was a subtle kind of steel.
“But here with you—I didn’t have to. I used to live for the few weeks we spent here each summer. I’d help you. Do you remember? I liked working with my hands, getting them dirty.” She shook her head. “I was never allowed to get dirty at home.”
Back when Emily was young and medically vulnerable, Rebecca’s home had probably been entirely sterile.
“Please go back to the cottage.” Mr. Laughlin’s tone and mannerisms were a perfect match for his granddaughter’s: quiet, understated steel. Until that moment, I’d never seen the resemblance between the two of them.
“Thea, take her back.”
“I loved working with you,” Rebecca told her grandfather, the sun catching her ruby-red hair. “But there was one part of the maze that you always insisted on doing yourself.”
My stomach twisted. Rebecca knows where to dig.
“Emily looked like your mother,” Mr. Laughlin said roughly. “But you have her mind, Rebecca. She was brilliant. Is still.” He choked on the next words. “My little girl.”
“It wasn’t Mr. Hawthorne who killed Vincent Blake’s son,” Rebecca said softly. “Was it?” There was no answer. “Eve’s gone. Mom lost it when she couldn’t find her. She said—”
“Whatever your mother said,” Mr. Laughlin cut in harshly, “you forget it, Rebecca.” He looked from her to the horizon. “That’s how this works.
We’ve all done our share of forgetting.”
For more than forty years, this secret had festered. It had affected all of them—two families, three generations, one poisonous tree.
“Your daughter was only sixteen.” I started with what I knew. “Will Blake was a grown man. He came here with something to prove.”
“He used your daughter.” Xander took over for me. “To spy on our grandfather.”
“Will used and manipulated your sixteen-year-old daughter. He got her pregnant,” Jameson continued, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.
“I’ve given my life to the Hawthorne family. I don’t owe any of you this.” Mr. Laughlin’s voice wasn’t just harsh now. It was vibrating with fury.
I felt for him. I did. But this wasn’t theoretical. It wasn’t a game. This might well be life or death.
“Show us the part of the maze he wouldn’t let you work on,” I told Rebecca.
She took a step, and Mr. Laughlin grabbed her arm. Hard.
“Let her go,” Thea said, raising her voice.
Rebecca caught Thea’s gaze, just for a moment, then turned back to her grandfather. “Mom’s distraught. She started rambling. She told me that Liam was angry when he found out about the baby. He was going to leave her, so she stole something from the House, from Mr. Hawthorne’s office.
She told Liam that she had something he could use against Tobias Hawthorne, just so he would meet with her again. But when he came, when she went to give him what she’d taken, it wasn’t in her bag.”
I pictured them someplace isolated. The Black Wood, maybe.