Page 65 of Enigma

“I have no idea.” Olive shrugged. “But it feels like I keep dancing around the edges of this mystery. Maybe it’s time to go straight to the center.”

The old house on Maple Street looked exactly as Olive remembered from her last visit—a modest two-story Colonial with beige siding and black shutters and a small front porch.

The yard was overgrown, and a “No Trespassing” sign had been posted near the rusted mailbox.

Jason parked across the street, and they both stared at the house in silence.

“Might as well get this over with.” Olive opened her door.

They walked up the cracked sidewalk together. The front door was secured with a heavy padlock, but Jason was already pulling out his lock-picking kit.

The lock clicked open, and Jason pushed the door inward. The house was dark and smelled of dust. Their footsteps echoed on the hardwood floors as they moved through the familiar rooms.

The living room still had its navy-blue couch and beige chairs. The kitchen still had the dark wood cabinets and deep-green countertops.

So many memories hit Olive—making sourdough bread with her mom, eating spaghetti together on Friday nights, and chasing her sisters around the stairway.

As tears tried to prick her eyes, she pushed the memories aside—for now.

She had to stay focused.

They searched each room downstairs, checking for hidden panels, loose floorboards, or anything else that might contain evidence or answers.

But they found nothing of note.

Olive wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting. She’d just hoped there wassomething.

Next, they headed upstairs to the bedrooms.

They paused inside her parents’ old bedroom, and Olive leaned against the wall near her mother’s dresser.

“I don’t know if I ever told you much about my mom,” Olive started. “But the memories have been hitting me a lot lately—the memories of our time together and everything she taught me.”

Jason crossed his arms. “Like what?”

“I keep thinking about the flower-arranging lessons she gave me once. She was really good at making these floral arrangements. And in the middle of the practical lesson, she taught me some life lessons also. For example, when arranging flowers she taught me to hide the damaged parts, to create the illusion of perfection.”

Jason glanced around the dim bedroom. “Maybe that’s what this whole house was. An illusion of a normal family life.”

“But for whose benefit? The neighbors? Us kids? Or was it just another cover for their real work?”

Jason didn’t have an answer, and Olive didn’t expect him to.

They were about to step out of the room when something on the floor poking out from underneath her mother’s dresser caught Olive’s eye.

She leaned down and pulled it out.

It was a white envelope.

Her breath caught as she saw her name written across the front.

Jason moved beside her and stared at her discovery. “Someone’s been here. Recently.”

Olive held the envelope with trembling fingers as her gaze met Jason’s. “Someone who wanted me to find this.”

CHAPTER 43

Olive turned the envelope over in her hands, studying every detail.