Page 115 of Reluctant Rogue

“She was worse,” Naomi confirmed. “She was absolutely a killer, with no conscience whatsoever. The fact that you were only twelve wouldn’t have made a difference to her.”

“She probably wanted to stay living there, keep an eye on how the search was going,” Beth said. “While Valerie had us safely whisked away somewhere else far away.”

“She lived there another, I don’t know…. years,” Mark said.

“That would make sense,” Naomi considered this. “We were eleven when our grandparents died and Beatrice came to move in with us. The timeline certainly matches up.”

Then, unable to contain her eagerness, she asked, “So… could you… could we talk to our parents?”

“Hell, yeah!” Mark pulled his phone from his pocket, laughing. “I almost forgot.”

Naomi gulped, and Beth beside her did the same. Their fingers tightened their clasp on each other as they watched Mark make the call. He had it on speaker phone, and they heard a light soprano voice answer.

“Mark, darling!”

“Hi, Mom. Hey, is Dad around? I need to talk to you both.”

“Yes, he’s outside, shoveling snow.” Her laugh was warm, infectious, and Naomi exchanged an eager smile with Beth. “Where are you? We missed you for dinner last night.”

“Oh.” Mark grimaced at them, looking up from the phone. “I’m in New York, Mom.”

“New York! Whatever are you doing there? You didn’t tell me you were going, and I forgot, did you?”

“No, Mom, it was a last minute deal. Do you have Dad there?”

“I’m here, Son.” A deep voice, baritone, sounded from the phone’s speaker, and Naomi could hardly control her excitement.

“Yeah, maybe it’d be better if you sat down, Mom, Dad.”

“Okay.” Their mother’s voice took on a note of anxiety. “Is everything okay?”

“We’re sitting down,” their father said. “What is it?”

“Let’s to go FaceTime,” Mark suggested.

When Beth and Naomi leaned forward in anticipation, Mark held up one finger, and they settled back to wait, fidgeting together.

“There’s no easy way to say this,” Mark said, “so I’ll just come right out with it.” He lifted his gaze to his sisters, and smiled. “I found them.”

There was a brief silence, and suddenly their mother gasped. “Our girls? Y-you found our girls?”

Mark’s wide smile encompassed them all, and he turned his phone towards Naomi and Beth. “I did.”

There was an audible gasp, as Naomi and Beth and their mother and father saw each other. Their mother was an older version of themselves, fair and eyes of the same blue-grey, while their father had wavy dark brown hair and deep blue eyes. Their mother had her hands over her mouth, and her eyes brimmed with tears. Their father seemed bereft of speech, simply staring at them.

Beth’s gaze went to Mark, turning her face away from the phone to whisper, “W-we don’t even know their names.”

“Janette and Russell,” he told them. “Janette and Russell Sullivan.”

She nodded, and looked back to the phone.

“I’m Naomi,” Naomi told them, pulling her sister close. “And this is Beth.”

“Ohhh!” Janette’s breath escaped in a half sob. “The same names.”

“Yes.” For the life of her, Naomi couldn’t seem to think of a thing to say, and apparently, neither could Beth.

Their father… Russell… cleared his throat. “And you’re well? You’re happy?”