Page 111 of On Edge

I’m practically buzzing when Kathy has finished serving, and I have the kitchen all to myself for once. Carefully, I place the paper in one of the ovens at a low temperature. After a few minutes, marks begin to darken on the page. Hastily, I pull it out. I don’t want to leave it too long, and it turns black.

As soon as the paper is cool enough to hold up, the first line leaps out at me.

To my dark Sweeney…

The restof the day passes in a haze. I end up back in bed, under my blanket, trying to make sense of it.

Ben is outside my door again. I feel like Troy has somehow set his dog on me to make sure I don’t go where I’m not supposed to. But I feel a little safer with him around, especially at night.

At my feet is a stack of books I’ve borrowed, mostly cookbooks. Troy doesn’t seem to have anything else to read from this century. Every book is either a classic or a rare edition that shouldn’t exist. There were some business books on the shelves where I nabbed the Sweeney book, but I’m loath to read through those.

Anyway, there’s only one book I’m interested in. It’s about a king calledBuile Suibhnewho talks to birds and slowly loses his grip on reality, who he was before, and his crown. The wordSuibhneis etched inside Troy’s family ring, but I don’t know what it means. I don’t even know what language it is.

And the letter inside it is more confusing. It’s definitely from my sister. I take it out and reread it. What looks like Nell’s neatcursive handwriting, very similar to mine, is scrawled over it in burnt ink. But it’s only half a letter. The rest seems to be missing. And the words…it feels like a confession.

What happened to my sister?

Was it really Nell who wrote this?

I study the old fold lines before carefully recreating them, a triangle rather than a square. It’s how we used to fold letters when we were kids.

Nell was here at Grayfleet before she died, so she must have hidden the letter then. But who is Sweeney? What was my sister’s relationship with them, and why would Nell hide this letter in this book in Troy’s library?

Could Troy know who Sweeney is? Is that why he killed her? Was she in love with someone else? The letter feels intimate, even if I don’t have the second half.

But the only other man here, apart from Troy, is Mundel.

And I don’t see it.

The sound of a helicopter whirring above the house stirs me from my makeshift nest. Then it fades into the distance. I sit listening until it’s gone.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Oh my God, what is that?I startle at the powerful knock at the door, my heart almost jumping out as I clutch the book to my chest.

“It’s me, dear.”

“Oh, Kathy.” I quickly shove the blanket over the letter. “Come in.”

Kathy peers around the edge of the door and then opens it wide.

“I was just about to bake a batch of pies and cakes for the wedding. Thought you might like to join me since I know you enjoy pottering about in the kitchen like I do.”

“Yes, I would. Thank you.”

“Good. Sometimes there’s nothing like getting your hands in some dough after a difficult day. Helps settle the nerves.” She glances at the book I’m holding.

Inwardly, I curse. I didn’t hide it this time.

“Mad Sweeney, a bit dark for you, isn’t it?”

“What did you say?”

“Mad Sweeney, the Irish folk story you’re reading.”

I stare at the cover, every nerve in my body on full alert. “It’s Irish?”

“Yes, like Master Troy’s family.”