Page 51

Izzy

I love anything with ginger, but can’t bring myself to drink the tea Grace pours. I’m too nervous. My hands are so shaky, I’m afraid I might drop the mug and break something else of hers.

Meanwhile, Grace’s home enchants Taylor, who doesn’t seem anxious at all.

With wide eyes, she takes in the dried herbs decorating the kitchen walls, the rough-hewn shelves lined with glass jars reflecting the afternoon light, the exposed wooden beams overhead, and the faded rugs where Nutmeg has found a comfortable resting place.

(Winston, Grace’s tabby cat, has likely found a dog-free spot elsewhere.) It feels like we’ve stepped into a fairy tale—though not one destined for a happy ending.

At the moment, I believe my boss is a murderer, and I have no way to prove it.

I don’t know how to begin.

Thankfully, Grace jump-starts the conversation.

“So, Izzy, did you notice anything unusual about the box?” Her voice cuts through the air. Her eyes are fixed on me, waiting for my response.

I recall the understanding that passed between us, but apparently, she wants confirmation that we’re on the same page.

“Yeah, I noticed something,” I say, my focus drifting out the window. “Actually, Lucas found the hidden compartment when he fixed the clasp.”

Grace nods, but her expression reveals nothing. “Lucas is the boy who left you in the woods?” she asks.

“I don’t think it was intentional,” I say. “And I guess it was kind of fortunate, because I wouldn’t have met you otherwise… and I wouldn’t have found the photograph.”

Grace grimaces ever so slightly.

“Do you know who it is?” I ask.

“Susie Welch, the second missing girl,” Grace answers quietly.

“She’s my aunt.” My words come out heavy, though I instantly feel lighter for saying them.

The more people who know my story, the less burdensome it becomes.

The relief encourages me to keep going, and I tell Grace my real reason for being at the lake.

“I never imagined I’d end up working for the man who might be responsible for her disappearance. ”

Grace is still as a stone while I reveal details about the necklace. “Oh my,” she finally says. Her expression remains grim. “David Dunne has a reputation around these parts that appears to be well-earned—and now he’s got a missing girlfriend, am I right?”

“Yes. Fiona Maxwell, the third woman to vanish from Lake Timmeny,” I say.

Taylor’s eyes darken. Looking at Grace, she asks, “If you knew the picture was in the box, why didn’t you show it to the police? They might have been able to identify David years ago.”

“Oh, trust me, I showed them the photo when I first got the box back. And the police weren’t interested.

They said it looked like a bad breakup, but they were certain it was unrelated to Susie’s disappearance.

Don’t ask me why; I couldn’t explain it then or now.

So I put the picture back. I didn’t know what else to do with it, and it felt like it belonged where I found it.

Honestly, I forgot all about it until now.

It’s just… I don’t like to think about that tragedy because it reminds me of Anna—it brings me nothing but sadness. ”

I pull the defaced photograph from my backpack. “Since it’s my family, I’d like to keep it, if that’s all right with you—unless the police need it.”

“That’s yours to have,” says Grace. “I get it. I have a hard time parting with Anna’s belongings.”

Shame warms my cheeks. I didn’t dig up any bones, but I might as well have, because I’m unearthing painful skeletons—not only for me, but for Grace as well.

I can barely imagine what this will do to my mother when I finally confess where I am and why.

But I can’t stop now. I’ve come too far, and we’re too close to getting answers.

“Don’t you think it’s strange that a box with a secret compartment is connected to two women who went missing from the lake, but decades apart from each other?”

A shadow sweeps through the room.

“It’s more than strange,” Grace admits. “But I got an odd feeling from the police, like they knew something they weren’t telling me. It was more than a brush-off. But I didn’t know what to do about it. Honestly, I was scared.”

Taylor bites her bottom lip. “What do you mean, you were scared?” she asks.

Regret fills Grace’s eyes. She rises from her chair slowly, as if resigned to some fate. Off she goes, departing for another room, with no explanation.

Grace returns, holding a piece of blue-lined paper, the kind you’d find in a school notebook.

She hands the paper to me, though I await her nod of permission before unfolding it.

The paper is yellowed with age and smooth to the touch; my fingers glide across its surface. I’m filled with trepidation.

“When we were little girls, Anna and I used the box to pass secret notes to each other. It was like playing spy.” Her eyes brighten at the memory.

“Eventually we outgrew the game. Boys were on my mind by that point, and evidently on Anna’s as well.

The day she went missing, I checked the box on the off chance she’d left me a goodbye note. I found that inside.”

She points to the paper, which I cradle like a fragile egg.

“It’s a letter from Anna,” Grace explains.

“She left it in the secret compartment, just like when we were young. I never told anybody about it. Wouldn’t even show it to the police, and you’ll see why when you read it.

Anna was my older sister, my hero. Whatever she said, I did.

It was as simple as that. And it was her final wish that I honor her request and keep this to myself.

I didn’t think anyone would ever see it, but I didn’t anticipate the box falling into someone else’s hands. ”

“How did that happen?” I ask.

The speed at which Grace answers proves some aspects of her memory are still as sharp as ever.

“One weekend when I wasn’t around, my parents had a yard sale,” she began.

“A lot of Anna’s belongings were sold off.

Someone in your family must have bought the box that day.

Unfortunately, your aunt must have found the hidden compartment and the letter inside, because the very thing my sister worried would happen to me, happened to her instead.

“When I bought the box back years later, I was amazed to find the letter still inside along with the photograph you discovered. As a precaution, I put the letter in a fireproof safe so nobody would ever find it again, but I’d still have it in case the time was right to share it.

I guess that time is now. These secrets have been buried so long, and so many people have suffered—including you, Izzy, and your family.

I don’t know if I’m putting you in danger by showing you this, but I think you should decide for yourself what to do from here. ”

It feels like I’m holding a lead in Susie’s disappearance that’s so hot it could leave blisters on my fingers.

I unfold the paper with extreme care. It’s dry and fragile.

I worry it might tear. My eyes rake up and down the page.

The handwriting, in blue ink, is feminine and near-perfect cursive.

I don’t think I could even write my name with such precision, but Anna composed an entire letter that’s as easy to read as any typewritten page.

Taylor stands behind me, looking over my shoulder like a classmate who didn’t study for the test.

The paper is dated June 8, 1965, the day before Anna Olsen went missing. I read it aloud in case Grace wants to hear, though something tells me she has it memorized.

My Dearest Sister,

If you find this letter, it means I couldn’t come back for it, and it’s doubtful I ever will. There’s something I have to do, and it’s all I’ve been thinking about. The time has come for me to take action. I guess you should know some things that I’ve been keeping from you, Mom, and Dad.

First, I’m pregnant.

I know I never told you about my boyfriend, but he’s the love of my life, and we’re meant to be together, now and forever.

But I have two big problems. One is that he’s married.

Please don’t judge. I had no idea when we got involved.

I only knew that he was everything I ever wanted in a man and more.

Being together makes me feel so alive. I know I should have broken things off when I found out about his wife, but how could I?

I was already deeply in love. I can’t deny what’s in my heart.

He told me he’s going to get a divorce and that we’ll be married, only it’s not happening fast enough for this baby growing inside me. I can’t be an unwed mother. I can’t support a baby on my own, and Mom and Dad will probably disown me if they find out.

The other problem is, the man I love has become involved with the wrong crowd.

He’s part of some gang in New York, and I think they work with the Mafia.

He never talks about what he does for them, but I know it’s dangerous.

He’s trying to get out. He’s a good man, really he is.

It’s just hard to leave once you’re in over your head.

But we’ll sort that out after we’re together, and we’ll start a whole new life as a family.

But I’m worried. If he won’t tell his wife about us, then I have to, because this baby is coming, and I need him to be with me. Who knows what threats she’ll make, and what information about his business and associates she might share to keep him from leaving?

I need to be careful, which is why I’m writing you this note. This is a risk I have to take. I’m not afraid of my boyfriend. I know he loves me. But his connections are another matter. If anything happens to me, I don’t want you taking any risks yourself.

Grace, you can’t tell Mom or Dad any of this. Not ever. It’s too dangerous for everyone. If someone comes after me, they could very well come after you. Just know I’m doing this for the baby and myself, and I love you very much.

Your devoted sister,

Anna

A heavy pall settles over the room, a silence born from sorrow and pain.

I feel it deeply in the pit of my stomach, and it seems Taylor does as well—she’s on the verge of tears.

Her arms are crossed over her chest, her face strained as though trying to contain her emotions.

I’m not sure why the letter impacted her so profoundly, but I have no doubt that it has.

I can’t take Anna’s letter for myself. It’s an archive from Grace’s life, an artifact with her sister’s handwriting, something she would want to safeguard.

But I ask if I can take a picture of it.

I don’t know how I’ll use it, what significance it’ll have or how it might help my cause, but I know that my aunt read this letter—and soon after that, she vanished.

Grace gives her permission, but issues a warning. “You know what I’m worried about, don’t you?”

“You think my aunt Susie showed this letter to the wrong person, is that it?”

“Yes. And that maybe she was killed by the same person who took my sister. Killed because she learned the truth,” says Grace.

My head spins at the thought of Aunt Susie becoming embroiled with the Mob.

For an aspiring podcaster about all things criminal, all that I know about organized crime is that it hasn’t gone away.

Wherever there is an opportunity to make money, people band together to find ways to get it, legally or otherwise.

“I won’t put myself in any danger,” I assure her, though I’m thinking: Here I go with another piecrust promise.

Grace’s tone is parental. “Follow your heart, but, Izzy, please watch your back.”

I stand to go.

“I’ve got to get back to the kids,” I say. “Thank you for helping me with my ankle, and for everything else. I’m sorry again about taking the box. If I find out anything, anything at all, I promise I’ll let you know.”

Taylor seems out of it. There’s a faraway look in her eyes, a halo of sadness surrounding her. Grace is an empathetic, intuitive type, and I think she’s noticed, like I have, that Taylor’s gone pale.

“You look unwell. Perhaps you both need to go home and take a rest. It’s a lot to absorb.

And thank you for being here, and for sharing,” Grace says.

“Please, please, don’t be strangers. I’m making vegetable soup this evening for my nephew, Noah, who comes to check on me from time to time.

We’d love to have you join us. Or come back another time. You’re always welcome.”

She pulls me into a warm embrace, but when Grace reaches for Taylor, her hug is barely reciprocated. Taylor is completely withdrawn, her mind elsewhere.

I can’t imagine what’s worrying her to this degree, but on our way out, as we walk along the well-worn path, Taylor pulls me to a stop. Her eyes are pleading, glazed with tears. She takes my hand, giving it a squeeze.

“Izzy, there’s something I need to tell you.” Her voice is a nervous whisper. “I could really use a friend right now. I guess the letter was a sign that I shouldn’t deal with this alone anymore.”

“Deal with what?” I ask.

“I’ve been keeping a secret. Something that changes everything.”