Rachel’s eyes filled with tears.
“I can’t tell you everything I know yet. But I think you need to speak to him.”
I stared at her, trying to understand.
“Is this why the other women disappeared?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “But I think the answer is more complicated than you imagine.”
She reached for my hand.
“I’m sorry I frightened you. I just needed time to work out what to do with what I learned.”
I wanted to ask a hundred more questions, but she had already turned toward the office entrance.
“Please,” she said softly. “Talk to your father. And ask him about the last few months before your mother died.”
Then she walked inside, leaving me standing on the pavement with a thousand new questions.
For twelve years, I had believed that my father’s grief was the only mystery surrounding my mother’s death.
Now I wasn’t so sure.
