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My heart sinks. I don’t want to ask the next question. After a pause, I say, “Was he taken away?”
Lenora pauses as well, waiting a good thirty seconds before she taps the ground once, twice.
“Do you know what happened to him after that?”
After another long pause, I receive only a single tap from Lenora.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, closing my eyes to hold back tears that have suddenly formed. I can’t imagine being that young, getting pregnant, giving birth, and then having the baby taken from me. It’s beyond cruel. It’s horrific.
I open my eyes to see that Lenora’s expression hasn’t changed. It’s a blank mask facing the sky, hiding the deep pain that’s surely present all these years later. If it turns out Carter really is her grandson, maybe some of that pain will ease. I hope so.
“Before she died, did Mary draw blood from your arm?”
Lenora taps twice, confirming my suspicion about the cause of the bruise on her left arm.
“Did she tell you why?”
One tap.
“But she knew about the baby, right? You told her?”
Two taps.
“Just like you also told her who killed your parents and sister.”
Another two taps, slower this time.
“There’s a reason you haven’t told me yet,” I say, because there must be. She’s typed nothing for almost three days. In that time, she could have revealed all. Hell, she could have done it my first night here. One sentence is all it would take.
“Are you ever going to tell me?”
Lenora hesitates, her left hand hovering over the ground, as if she’s not sure of the answer. I feel the same way. Also hovering. Also uncertain. As much as I need to know the truth, I’m also cognizant of thedanger it might put me in. If Lenora finally tells me and someone else finds out, I could end up just like Mary.
I stare across the grass to the edge of the cliff. No railing there. Just a straight, screaming drop into the ocean. Lenora’s aware of it, too, even though she can’t see it from where she lies. There’s no way to miss its presence. It pulls at us, daring us to come closer, peer over the edge, tempt fate.
It dawns on me that’s what I’ve been doing since the moment I arrived at Hope’s End. Edging toward the forbidden. Looking at things I shouldn’t see, poking at things that shouldn’t be poked. All because of a misguided hope that proving Lenora’s innocence might somehow make me look innocent as well.
Her left hand finally taps the ground.
Just once.
No.
Seeing it sends anger sparking through my body. “But you promised.”
Lenora winces, as if she regrets that. I don’t care. We had a deal. I take her outside—not an easy task—and she finally tells me everything. I’m damn well going to hold her to it.
“You need to uphold your end of the bargain.”
Lenora gives the ground an adamant single tap.
“Yes,” I say. “Right now.”
I stand as Lenora steadily raps her fist against the grass, making her stance crystal clear. No, no, no. I ignore it, even as I understand all the obvious reasons she doesn’t want to tell me.
Mary.
Her missing suitcase.