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My hands tremble so badly as I open the journal that I have to set it on the table to read it. I have come across remnants of Annie’s past before, but this is the first time I’ve come across anything that contains her own thoughts.

This is my sister. This is her. This is who she was after she left me and started a new life that eventually led her here to the city where I now am.

How did Elena obtain this journal? How does she have one of Annie’s diaries? Did they know each other?

I realize that I’m staring at the page without reading it. I take a deep breath and force myself to read the first entry.

March 5 th ,

Today brought me even more reasons to love Geneva. I have to admit that I was a little upset that Carl wanted to live in another city after I’ve spent my entire life living in cities, but I am completely over that now. He understands my need for adventure very well, and this city has plenty of it.

There are so many places to explore! I could spend all day just walking around Old Town.

And that’s exactly what I did. I walked around Old Town. It felt like I was brought back in time to the Renaissance! The buildings here are so beautiful, and they have actual cobblestone streets! I can’t believe it!

The coolest thing I've found so far, though, was a museum full of clocks. Like, a lot of clocks. Big clocks, little clocks, old clocks, new clocks, cuckoo clocks, grandfather clocks, watches, these weird-looking electric clocks from the 1910s with exposed gears so you can see how they work… It's crazy. I didn't know people cared so much about clocks, but I ended up spending three hours looking around. I think I'll go back. I heard that spies used to send messages in the compartments of antique clocks.. Maybe if I can get a chance when no one’s looking, I’ll see if I can open some of them. I know it’s snooping, but whatever. It’s not like I’m going to keep anything. I mean, probably not.

Yeah, I know. I guess I’m still a little childish sometimes. Good thing I have Carl to balance me out.

Anyway, good night. Ttyl.

Laura.

I release a sigh of relief so powerful it comes out as a groan. Not Annie. Some woman named Laura. Judging by the writing style and, of course, the handwriting itself, she was very similar to my sister in temperament, but it wasn’t my sister.

When the first wave of relief finishes washing over me, I frown. Why am I relieved? This could have contained all of the answers I needed. It could have told me what happened to my sister. Why am I running from these answers once more?

I close the journal and begin pacing, my arms crossed over my chest. This is a problem with me that Sean has pointed out as well. I claim to want answers to Annie’s disappearance, and I do, but each time I have a chance to obtain one, I feel this odd reluctance. At first, it was only a momentary hesitation, but now it’s a powerful anxiety that leaves me nearly prostrate as it does tonight.

It’s those letters. Those damned letters. I’m afraid of learning about how cruel I was to her. That’s what it really is. I’m afraid that I’ll find the answers I seek and learn that most of them were, “Mary was a bitch, so I got away from her.”

Saying it out loud seems utterly foolish, but realizing that hasn't done nearly as much to help me as it ought. I sigh and force myself to change for bed again. Enough for tonight. In the morning, I'll return the journal to Elena, then have a serious conversation with myself about whether I should just finish the search for Annie at all costs or forget entirely about it. No more of this will I or won't I nonsense.

I lie down in bed, take a deep breath, and close my eyes.

And, of course, that's when the clocks go off again.

My eyes open, and I glance at my phone. Midnight. Whatever Francois did to repair the instruments, it wasn’t enough. Sleep is a luxury I won’t find here, it seems.

What could be causing them to go off like this? Could the thief have damaged them looking for some hidden wartime message?

I sigh and force my eyes closed. I won’t go down to investigate again. The mention of hidden compartments in Laura’s journal corroborating Sophie’s story of messages passed by spies during the Second World War intrigues me, but I’m exhausted physically and mentally, and anyway, Elena already thinks I’m a thief. No need to get myself caught red-handed digging through old clocks and cement that suspicion in her mind.

I stay in bed, but I don’t sleep for a long time. The clocks continue to bray and squeal and chime and ring and boom for nearly an hour. When they stop, the noises echo in my ears for another hour. It seems to be taking Elena longer to stop them tonight.

Only when they finally fade am I able to sleep.

***

I wake an hour late the following morning. Sophie and Elena are already eating breakfast when I arrive at the dining room. Elena smiles at me and gestures to a plate with a sort of pancake on top that appears to be made with more eggs than the American version. It’s topped with fruit and cream.

“Eiertatsch,” Elena explains. “I made one for you.”

I smile and thank her, then pour myself a cup of coffee and sit down to eat. Sophie looks down at her plate and pokes at the remains of her own Eiertatsch. She refuses to look at me. I assume she’s mad at me for interrupting her and Luc the night before.

Luc!

I flinch and ask, “Where is Luc? Is he still in bed?”

“He went home,” Sophie says morosely. “His dad had to come get him early this morning because he had to get to the bank by seven.”

So that’s why she’s so upset. She didn’t have a chance to explore the museum with him like I said she could.

That brings me to the next unpleasant thing I must do. I open my mouth to explain to Elena about the journal, but Sophie snaps her head up and gives me a pleading look.

I press my lips together and sigh. “I see. I’m sorry the two of you had to cut your playdate short.”

“It wasn’t a date,” she says, blushing and turning beet red. “We’re kids!”

“A sleepover, then,” I reply with a lot more irritability than her comment deserves.

The lack of sleep is affecting me now. I drink deeply from my coffee mug and start eating my food.

Elena looks between the two of us anxiously. She tries to smooth over the tension by saying, “Sophie loved going out to Old Town yesterday. Maybe you can take her to one of the secret passages later.”

I frown. “Secret passages?”

“They’re tunnels that rich people used to use to evacuate when the city was attacked,” Sophie explains.

She doesn’t seem too enthusiastic about visiting them, but that’s probably just because she’s angry at me right now. Elena tries again to enliven the mood. “But it’s so much fun! You can take a tunnel all the way from Old Town to downtown. And then you two could take the tram to the lake and see the boats.”

Sophie stands abruptly and stalks to the elevator. I really should correct that behavior and make her clear her plate and ask for permission, but I’m just so tired.

And I need to address this issue with Elena. When the elevator door closes, I look at Elena. “Elena, is there a reason you didn’t tell me Luc was spending the night last night?”

Elena blinks. “What?”

“I don’t mind watching Luc as long as you and his father are comfortable with it, but I wasn’t expecting him to be here. If he is to be under my care, even for a few hours, I need to know about this. He could have gone missing or gotten hurt, and I would have had no idea.”

“But I did tell you. I told you yesterday afternoon.”

I frown. “No, you didn’t.”

“I did,” she insists. “I told you that Lukas called me and asked if Luc could spend the night here. You told me that was an excellent idea, and you couldn’t wait for the two of them to spend more time with each other.”

“I… I did?”

Have I had another dissociative episode? This isn’t good. If I can’t trust my own senses, then I can’t know if anything I believe is real or if my mind is playing tricks on me.

Elena frowns, “Are you trying to make a joke, Mary?”

Before I can reply, the elevator opens again. Sophie is there, accompanied by a strange woman.

I frown and get to my feet, intending to scold Sophie and demand to know what a strange woman is doing following a child into her home.

When I look at her, however, all of my thoughts disappear. The tall young woman who stands in front of me with the elegant figure, straight blonde hair and sky blue eyes is the spitting image of my sister.