Chapter 1 - THE GIRL WHO KNEW HER NAME
The little girl pointed straight at Helena Crawford’s chest.
“My grandma has the other one.”
Helena stopped breathing.
The silver brooch pinned to her coat was shaped like a small magnolia blossom, its edges darkened with age. Her mother had given it to her nineteen years ago, three weeks after Helena’s older sister vanished.
There had only ever been two.
Helena’s.
And Evelyn’s.
“What did you say?” Helena asked.
The girl couldn’t have been older than nine. She stood beside a shopping cart outside Miller’s Market, licking chocolate ice cream off her thumb.
“That pin,” she said. “My grandma has one just like it.”
Helena stared at her.
Behind the girl, a woman in her early thirties was loading grocery bags into an SUV.
“Lucy,” the woman called. “Don’t bother strangers.”
“I’m not bothering her, Mom.”
The woman turned.
She saw Helena’s face and froze.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
Helena felt the late-afternoon air suddenly turn cold.
“You know me,” Helena said.
The woman looked at the brooch.
Then at Helena.
“Oh, God.”
She grabbed Lucy’s hand.
“We need to go.”
Helena stepped in front of the shopping cart.
“No.”
“Please.”
“Nineteen years ago, my sister disappeared wearing a brooch exactly like this one.”
The woman’s eyes filled instantly.
Helena’s heart began hammering.
“What’s your name?”
The woman hesitated.
“Anna Mercer.”
“And your mother?”
Anna glanced around the parking lot as if somebody might be watching.
Helena grabbed her arm.
“Tell me.”
Anna pulled away.
“Her name is Evelyn.”
Every sound in the parking lot disappeared.
Cars.
Voices.
Shopping carts.
Everything.
Helena heard only her own pulse.
“My sister’s name was Evelyn Crawford.”
“I know.”
Helena nearly stumbled.
For nineteen years, the police had searched rivers, woods, bus stations, hospitals and morgues.
Her mother had kept Evelyn’s bedroom untouched until the day she died.
Her father had refused to speak about her.
And Helena had spent almost two decades believing her sister might be buried somewhere without a name.
She looked at Lucy.
Then at Anna.
“How do you know Evelyn?”
Anna swallowed.
“She’s my mother.”
Helena stared at her.
“No.”
“She is.”
“No. Evelyn didn’t have children.”
Anna’s expression changed.
“She was pregnant when she disappeared.”
Helena felt the ground tilt beneath her.
She looked at Lucy again.
The child had Evelyn’s gray eyes.
The same eyes Helena saw every morning in her own mirror.
Anna lowered her voice.
“There’s something else.”
Helena could barely speak.
“What?”
“My mother came back here six days ago.”
Helena’s heart slammed against her ribs.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
May you like
Anna looked terrified now.
“She disappeared again.”
