Chapter
Twelve

After yelling at me, Cicely grabbed her schoolbag from the kitchen counter and stormed out. I was left angry and wounded, but I knew in my heart she was right. Hannah was the golden child. Smart, beautiful, ambitious, and full of life. I’d lived in her shadow when we were children, and even now, her own daughter recognized her mother’s value over mine.

“Stop it, Sarah,” I said to myself. I was so immersed in my own pain I didn’t hear Janet come in the front door. When she came into the kitchen, I was caught by surprise.

“For goodness’ sake, what’s wrong?” she asked when she saw me wipe away tears.

“I . . . I’m a terrible substitute for my sister,” I said, my voice breaking.

Janet came over and sat down next to me. “Why would you say that?” she asked. “Did something happen?”

I quickly shared my emotional exchange with Cicely. When I finished, I was surprised to see her smile. She reached over and took my hand.

“I know you’re hurt, Sarah, but Cicely doesn’t know what she’s saying. She’s been through a terrible experience, and she misses her mother. I’m amazed she didn’t say something like this sooner. It’s coming out of her grief. You’re just in the line of fire. Trust me, she probably feels worse than you do right now. She’s a smart girl, and she knows you care for her. She also knows that without you, she wouldn’t have a home.” Janet squeezed my hand and then let it go. “You both need to calm down. When you talk to her again, don’t let her know she upset you. Give her some slack and let her know you still love her. Even when she says something designed to hurt you.”

“I guess you’re right. Maybe I was hoping for too much too soon.” I sighed. “It’s not just Cicely. I finally called Detective Sykes.”

Janet’s eyes widened. “And?”

“I don’t know what to think. It was obvious he didn’t want to talk to me.” I shook my head. “The man they arrested? The one they thought might have killed Hannah?”

Janet nodded.

“He hanged himself in his cell.”

Janet’s hand flew to her mouth. “How terrible. But what does this mean? Do they still think he was involved in Hannah’s death?”

“That’s just it. I don’t know. I don’t believe he killed her, but now that he’s dead, will it be easy to blame him and move on?”

“Oh, Sarah. I can’t imagine the police would do something like that.”

“They did it in my parents’ case, Janet. Once they decided they were killed by robbers, that was the end of it. They spent all their time looking for burglary suspects that never materialized.”

She was quiet for a moment. “I saw something on TV the other day about a similar case. The police rushed to judgment and charged the wrong person.”

I got a cup out of the cabinet and poured some coffee. “I know most law enforcement officials are thorough and work hard to find the truth. But it doesn’t always happen that way. Kansas City police have their hands full. After talking to Doug Sykes, I have a real fear they’ll hang Hannah’s murder on the accused thief just so they can close the case.”

Janet was quiet for a moment as she stared into her coffee cup. “Have you considered . . .” She paused and shook her head.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t like Janet to hold back her opinion. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” I said.

She looked up at me. “I don’t want to put something in your mind that isn’t true.”

She had to be talking about the man who’d died in his cell. I’d been so busy thinking about Cicely, I hadn’t considered a terrible possibility. “Oh, Janet. You’re wondering if the man actually committed suicide or if he . . .” I couldn’t finish the thought. It was too awful.

“It crossed my mind, yes,” she said slowly. “But who would want him dead? And why?” She shook her head. “Just forget I said anything. It doesn’t make sense. I’m sure he was closely watched, Sarah. No one from the outside could have gotten to him.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

I silently finished my coffee. Now a frightening scenario played in my mind. Was his death something more than it seemed? Was there a chance someone wanted to keep him quiet?

Janet stood up. “Why don’t you get out for a while, Sarah? Go visit a friend.”

I started to refuse her kind offer, but then I remembered that I needed to talk to Wynter Evans. “Maybe I’ll do that,” I said.

Janet stood up. “Good. You need a break. It will do you a world of good.”

I realized she looked tired, and I felt guilty leaving her alone to deal with Cicely. “You must be exhausted. Are you sure?”

“It was a long day, but I’m fine. Besides, there’s still some spaghetti in the fridge. I’ll just heat it up and pop some garlic bread in the oven. Easy.” She smiled. “I haven’t had to cook much with all the food people gave us. The freezer in the basement is still full. We’ll be eating food brought by our neighbors for a long while.” She sighed. “It’s a blessing.”

“Janet, are you ever sorry you took over the clinic?”

“No, I’m not sorry. But the property is still in limbo, which adds some strain to the situation.” She sighed. “I decided today that I’ve got to have some help. I need someone to check in patients and help me keep the office organized.”

“I think Cicely would love to help out after school,” I said, frowning. “But that doesn’t take care of your situation during the day.”

“I think I’ll pass the word around town,” Janet said. “See if there’s someone who’d like to step in.”

“Wish I could help you, but I’m going back to school next week. Seems the girls in my class enjoy having Reuben as a substitute a little more than they should.”

Janet grinned. “I can understand that.” She pointed at me. “Now scoot. Go make that phone call.”

I went upstairs to my room and dialed Wynter’s number. It seemed odd, since she was right next door, but I knew she might be writing, and I didn’t want to disturb her. However, she answered the phone right away. She seemed glad to hear from me and asked how Cicely and I were doing.

“Things have been a little rocky. This afternoon was the worst,” I said. “Janet tells me I need to get out of the house for a while. I wondered if you might like to have dinner with me. There’s . . . there’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Sure,” she answered. “Is it serious?”

I lowered my voice, since Cicely’s room was right across the hall. “To be honest, I don’t know. There’s something strange about my sister’s murder. I know I told you she was killed during a robbery, but now I’m not sure that’s true. There are some similarities between her death and the way my parents were killed almost twenty years ago.”

“That’s interesting,” Wynter said slowly. “I’m not sure what I can do to help you, but let’s meet over at The Oil Lamp in about thirty minutes. Will that work for you?”

“Yes, that’s perfect. I’ll see you there.”

When we hung up, I could almost swear I heard an odd click, like someone had been listening on an extension. There were only three phones in the house. The main line in the kitchen, an extension in the living room, and the phone in my bedroom. Cicely was in her room, so it couldn’t be her. Maybe Janet had picked up the phone downstairs not realizing I was on it. I grabbed the phone again and called Paul. Unfortunately, I got his voice mail. I told him I’d found Hannah’s phone, but I didn’t say anything about the man who died in prison. That was something I wanted to tell Paul in person.

I quickly changed clothes and brushed my hair. As I checked my image in the mirror, I wondered if I’d look better with a little makeup. I rarely wore it, but I appeared washed out and tired. Although no one would object if I used a little mascara or blush, spending years living with Mrs. Johnson had discouraged me from straying too far from her simple Mennonite ways. And now, living in Sanctuary and teaching several students from conservative homes, it just seemed easier to stay makeup free. Many days I wore my hair in a bun or a long braid, but some days I wore it long. It was fine and straight, without much body. Hannah’s strawberry blond hair had benefited from our mother’s naturally curly hair, while mine mirrored our father’s. It seemed that Hannah had gotten all our parents’ best qualities, while I’d gotten their worst. As I stared at myself, I suddenly realized Paul was right. When I looked in the mirror, all I saw was Hannah. What she was. What I wasn’t.

After putting on my coat, I said good-bye to Janet and went outside. The wind was icy, and dark clouds raced across the sky. It had already snowed once this winter, and I could tell we were in for another round. I loved the snow, but I only walked a short way to work. Janet had to drive out of town to the clinic, and I worried about her on slick roads.

The restaurant was just four blocks away, so I decided to walk. Cicely had mentioned more than once that she thought it was “weird” that we walked so much in Sanctuary. It seemed that Hannah had driven them almost everywhere. Even down the block from their apartment to get hamburgers. Janet had told me I could use her car whenever I wanted, but in Sanctuary, a car was rarely necessary, so there hadn’t been much of a need. For a brief moment, I’d thought about taking Hannah’s car so I wouldn’t be forced to use Janet’s sedan for those occasional longer trips, but I’d quickly dismissed the idea. I was afraid it would be too hard for Cicely to ride in her mother’s car. Too many memories. I was happy that Mr. Hanson had found a buyer and was helping me get the title changed.

For some reason, Hannah’s letter drifted into my mind. Asking me not to look for the truth. To let the past go. But how could I be true to her memory if I didn’t try to get the police to search for justice? My sister’s request was unfair. How could she ask me to turn a blind eye to her murder? As I thought about it, I started to feel a little angry with Hannah. Not just for dying, but for asking me to leave her murder unsolved.

A gust of wind swept past me, and I could swear I heard it whisper Hannah’s words from the letter. Remember me. I almost turned around to see if her ghost stood behind me, begging me not to forget her. But it was absurd. I didn’t believe in ghosts. Not real ones anyway. I was certainly dealing with my own brand of ghosts though. Echoes from the past that wouldn’t stay silent. Now another ghost joined the cacophony of voices. A man I would never know. Had he lost his life because of my sister? Because of my family?

Another strong blast of wind pushed me, as if trying to hurry me down the sidewalk. The streetlights in Sanctuary were on, but they only shone in the downtown area. Janet lived on the edge of town, so I had to walk in the dark for two blocks before reaching the safety of the lights. Although the few houses along the way had their porch lights on, it was still disturbingly dark.

Suddenly, I heard a noise behind me. The sound of something falling. I turned around and peered into the darkness, but I couldn’t see anything. A feeling of panic seized me. There was only silence, but I swung back to see the lights from town ahead. I had an urge to run toward them, but a soft mewing behind me caused me to look back once more. A big golden cat sat in the middle of the street, watching me. Percy was owned by Martha Kirsch, who ran Sanctuary’s library. He was always getting into trash cans when he was let outside to do his business. He was simply making the rounds before he and Martha left for home.

“You’re a rotten cat,” I scolded him. “You almost scared me to death.”

He didn’t seem the least bit remorseful, so I resumed walking toward town. Even though the source of the noise that frightened me had been discovered, I was still happy to reach the security of the yellow-tinged streetlamps. The Oil Lamp finally came into view, and relief flowed through me. The freezing wind only added to my desire to seek shelter.

I opened the door and stepped inside the restaurant. The warm air made me shiver with pleasure, as did the knowledge that I was finally safe. Hannah’s letter made me feel as if someone were watching me all the time, though I knew that wasn’t possible. Sanctuary was a small town, and there were no strangers here. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling. Maybe it was my own guilt causing me to imagine I was being stalked. Did I think Hannah was following me around, trying to warn me to leave the past alone? Get control of yourself, Sarah. You’re beginning to sound crazy.

Gazing around the room, I spotted Wynter sitting against the wall on the other side of the room. The Oil Lamp wasn’t a fancy restaurant, but Randi Lindquist had given it a quaint, homey feeling. It reminded me of a fifties diner. Mismatched vinyl tablecloths, red and yellow ketchup and mustard bottles on the tables, black-and-white checked laminate flooring, and pictures on the walls. Some of the pictures were decorative, but most of them were early photographs of Sanctuary. At the front of the restaurant was a counter where customers could sit on round stools if they wished. Some of our residents liked to talk to Randi or chat with the cook who stood at the grill. It always smelled good in The Oil Lamp. Even if I wasn’t hungry, all I had to do was walk through the door and my mouth began to water.

“Thank you so much for having dinner with me,” I said to Wynter when I reached the table. “I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said with a smile. “I’m looking forward to it. I haven’t been out of the house much lately. Getting out was good for me.”

I took off my coat and put it on the back of the chair before I sat down. Wynter’s welcoming smile helped to chase away the disquiet that had trailed me from Janet’s to the restaurant. Wynter was a beautiful woman with light blond hair and striking green eyes. The same feeling came over me that I’d experienced in front of the mirror. Next to her, I felt almost invisible.

Randi saw me from across the room and hurried over. “I’m so glad to see you, Sarah,” she said. “We’re all so sorry about your sister. How are you doing? And how’s your niece?”

“We’re getting along all right,” I said with a smile, “but of course we miss Hannah. Cicely is in school and doing well. Thank you for the flowers and the food you sent over. It was very kind.”

Randi put her hand on my shoulder. “Wish I could do more, honey. We’re all praying for you.”

Randi was a very contemporary woman with her own mind, and she didn’t usually keep her opinions to herself. But she had a kind heart, and she loved Sanctuary. No one was more fierce in her loyalty toward her hometown than Randi.

“Thank you. We can certainly use all the prayers we can get.”

She patted my shoulder. “So what can I get you two ladies to drink?”

At first I asked for just a glass of water but then quickly added coffee even though I knew it was a bad idea. I’d probably be up all night, but I was so cold, a cup of hot coffee sounded great. I could have ordered decaf, but I didn’t care for the taste.

Wynter asked for water with lemon. Randi gave her a slight nod and walked away without saying anything.

“Is she still upset?” I asked when Randi was out of earshot.

Wynter nodded. “I’m afraid it will take a while for people in Sanctuary to forgive me for drawing attention to this town.”

“You didn’t draw attention to us. What Rae . . . I mean Marian Belker and her husband did brought the press here. I’m just grateful the media didn’t hang around any longer than they did. Right now, everyone’s more interested in locating the other children Joe and Marian kidnapped. Seems like you and your brother have finally become yesterday’s news.”

Marian Belker and her husband had kidnapped several children across Missouri and sold them to unsuspecting couples who thought they were adopting children legally. One of those children had been Wynter’s brother, Ryan.

She sighed and shook her head. “I hope so. We made it clear we wouldn’t give interviews. At first that made it worse. Reporters seemed determined to beat everyone else for the story, but after they found out we were serious, things finally started to die down.”

“There are a lot of people in Sanctuary who have secrets,” I said. “We’re all aware of it, but I don’t know anyone except your fiancé who is privy to most of them.”

Wynter shrugged. “And he isn’t telling me. I guess that’s what keeps us safe. A town full of people who are committed to keeping secrets . . . secret.”

I nodded my agreement. Sanctuary was special, and I was grateful for it. Especially with what Cicely and I had been through. We both needed a secure haven where we could recover from the trauma of my sister’s death without being bothered. I didn’t watch much TV, even though Janet had one. But sometimes I saw the news and was horrified by reporters sticking a microphone in someone’s face after the tragic loss of a loved one. The same question was almost always asked. “How do you feel?” As if the answer wasn’t obvious to everyone watching. Although I was a peaceful person, I thought a good punch in the face would have been an appropriate response in most cases.

Randi came back with our drinks and took our dinner orders. For some reason, I was terribly hungry. After my confrontation with Cicely and the call to Doug Sykes, it was probably a yearning for comfort. Since I was too skinny for my five-foot-eight-inch height, an occasional indulgence wasn’t a problem. I ordered a roast beef dinner with mashed potatoes and gravy, a side of green beans with bacon, and some of Randi’s homemade rolls.

“Whoa,” Randi said with a smile, “you usually order a salad or a bowl of soup. Nice to see you order some real food. Wouldn’t hurt you to put some meat on those bones.”

Although some people thought telling me I was skinny should make me feel good, it didn’t. Just like most heavy women didn’t want to be called fat, most thin women didn’t want to be labeled as skinny. Either term was just another way to say you weren’t “normal.” Of course, I just smiled and didn’t say anything. I knew Randi didn’t mean to be rude.

Wynter asked for a bowl of chili and some corn bread. Randi scribbled the order on her pad.

“It might be a while,” she said. “My new cook is a little slow, and we’re really busy tonight. Is that a problem?”

“Not for me,” I said. “I’m not in any hurry.”

“Me either,” Wynter said with a smile. “We’re both planning to enjoy a girls’ night out.”

Randi chuckled. “Only in Sanctuary would dinner in my restaurant be called a girls’ night out.” She winked at me. “You stay as long as you want. And if you manage to eat that big dinner you ordered, dessert is on me. Max may not be the fastest cook in town, but he makes a bread pudding that will make you beg for more.”

“That sounds wonderful,” I said with a sigh. “I’m out of the house, and there’s the possibility of dessert. Life can’t get any better than that!”

Randi and Wynter both laughed.

After Randi walked away, Wynter smiled at me. “So how are things between you and Cicely?”

I told her about the argument we’d just had. “Janet says Cicely just needs to blow up at someone because she’s angry. I’m sure that’s true, but I’m suffering too. It’s hard to deal with my own feelings and take the brunt of her anger as well.” I sighed. “I know how selfish that sounds.”

“Believe me, if anyone understands, it’s me. After my brother was kidnapped, I was furious with everyone. Even myself. I kept thinking that if I’d been home, he wouldn’t have been taken.” She shook her head. “I turned that into a reason to feel guilty. I shouldn’t have been at a friend’s house. I should have been with Ryan. As if sisters are supposed to spend their lives shadowing their siblings because something might happen. That’s ridiculous. I imagine Cicely wonders if she could have done something to save her mother.”

I blinked away the tears that filled my eyes. “Maybe she does. I’ve been doing the same thing. Trying to figure out if there was something I could have done to protect Hannah.”

“And then Cicely tells you she wishes you had died instead of her mother.” Wynter gazed into my eyes. “She didn’t mean that, you know. Not really.”

I shrugged and then quickly dabbed at my tears with my napkin. “I don’t know. I think she did, actually. I mean, I know she doesn’t want me dead. But if she could have chosen—”

“Stop that,” Wynter said sharply. “That kind of thinking is ridiculous. We can’t pick and choose those things. And if your sister could speak, I’m sure she’d tell you how thankful she is that you’re here for Cicely.” She sighed. “I used to think my father would have been happier if I’d been kidnapped instead of Ryan. That thinking was so destructive. It almost ruined me.” She took a drink of water and stared at it after she put it back on the table. “Comparing ourselves to other people only brings unhappiness, Sarah. We almost always come up lacking. I think God hates it when we do that. He made each one of us special and unique. When we judge ourselves against someone else, isn’t it saying that God didn’t do a good job in creating us? Isn’t it degrading His handiwork?”

I took a quick gulp of my coffee, not checking to see how hot it was. The steaming liquid scalded my throat, but Wynter’s words already burned in my mind. First Paul and now Wynter. Was God trying to tell me something? I’d spent my life comparing myself to others, and I always came up short. My sister, my mother, and the other foster children I’d spent time with. In fact, I’d just compared myself to Wynter. I was so used to judging myself by the strengths and talents I saw in everyone else that it had become automatic. It had never occurred to me that my self-judgment was criticizing God. Is that what I’d been doing?

I nodded at her but didn’t respond to her question, since I didn’t have the answer. Not knowing what else to do, I quickly changed the subject and asked Wynter about her writing.

“It’s coming along,” she said. “To be honest, I spend most of my time planning the wedding and the honeymoon. I’m afraid writing will have to wait until we get back.” Her perfectly shaped eyebrows knit together, and her expression grew rather solemn. “Now tell me about your sister’s murder. What is it that bothers you?”

I took a sip of water in an attempt to gather my thoughts. Then I proceeded to tell Wynter why I was concerned about Hannah’s death. The letter, the fire, and of course the flowers and their connection to my mother and father. As I told her about my conversation with Detective Sykes, she frowned, but she didn’t ask any questions. When I finished, she leaned back in her chair and stared at me. Before she could say anything, Randi showed up with our food. After serving us, she scurried away to another table where someone had just spilled a drink.

“So you believe the person who killed your parents also killed your sister?” Wynter spoke softly so she wouldn’t be overheard, but still, it made my stomach turn over to hear her say it out loud.

“I didn’t at first, but you have to admit that it’s odd. Some reporter from The Star gave Hannah a file a couple of months ago. It contained information that really upset her. If I could find it, it might help me convince the authorities to take my concerns seriously. I thought Detective Sykes was willing to look a little closer, but now it seems he’s dismissed any possibility the murders are linked. I truly don’t understand why. The same flowers at both scenes. I’m about as sure as I can be that my parents didn’t have orchids in the house before Hannah and I went to bed the night they died, and Hannah certainly didn’t have them in her apartment. We both hate orchids. Especially white ones.”

“Sarah, the police won’t look at your sister’s death differently because of similar flowers at the crime scene. I know it’s significant to you, but it won’t mean anything to them. They need real evidence. Remember, they’re treating this as a homicide. Whether the killer was a thief or whether he broke in just because he was targeting your sister—it’s still murder. I know this might not be what you want to hear, but I think you need to let this play out.” She shook her head. “Are you absolutely certain the guy who hanged himself wasn’t guilty? He was obviously distraught about something.”

“Nothing is impossible, I guess. But why would some random guy leave orchids behind, Wynter? It doesn’t make sense. Not unless he was working for someone else.” The idea that the man who died might have been sent by another person hadn’t occurred to me until that moment. Was it possible?

Wynter reached over and put her hand on mine. “Sarah, you’re going to drive yourself crazy with all this conjecture. Is Hannah’s death connected to your folks? Are the police really investigating? Did someone hire the guy who hanged himself? Did he really commit suicide? You have no evidence for any of this.”

I chewed and swallowed a bite of roast beef. It was delicious, but I couldn’t really taste much. My concern was more toward my conversation than my meal. “I understand what you’re saying, but what if the police decide to pin Hannah’s death on the man who died? They could miss finding the real killer.”

Wynter studied me for a moment. “I’m not saying you’re wrong. I don’t suppose you know what they found at the crime scene? I mean, anything solid that could point to the killer or killers?”

“No. Detective Sykes told me there was no DNA evidence they could use. No fingerprints except Hannah and Cicely’s. He said whoever broke in must have been wearing gloves.”

Wynter frowned. “Didn’t your sister have any friends? Visitors who could have left behind fingerprints or DNA?”

I shook my head. “Hannah didn’t seem to have people over. In fact, it appears she kept pretty much to herself.”

“Do you know why?” Wynter asked.

“No, not really,” I said slowly. “I’m the same way though. Sometimes I think people who have been through something traumatic tend to be loners. It’s not that we don’t like people, it’s just . . . a way of coping. Not allowing things into our life that we can’t control. I know that sounds a little crazy.”

Wynter shook her head. “It’s not crazy. I was the same way. Not letting people in. I was the kind of person who would rather spend the evening alone at home with my cat.”

“Trust me, I understand.”

“Hannah was stabbed to death, wasn’t she?” Wynter asked.

I nodded.

“I’m not a trained investigator, but it seems to me that there should have been more evidence at the crime scene. Of course it’s a moot point now since the house burned down. That certainly seems convenient.”

“One other odd thing,” I said. “I found a shriveled white orchid in Hannah’s bedroom, lying on the floor. If the flowers were in the living room, what was that bloom doing in the bedroom? Oh, and the drawer to the small table next to her bed was open, and I found bullets in a locked box in her closet. I think she heard a noise, grabbed her gun, and went out into the living room. That’s when she was attacked.”

“Where’s the gun now?”

I shrugged. “I have no idea and neither do the police. Detective Sykes said the theft of the gun made it look even more like a robbery.”

“Maybe. Guns are stolen a lot. Seems odd though. I mean, why not get the gun from her and shoot her? Why stab her? It’s messy and sometimes an attacker actually cuts himself and leaves evidence behind.” She thought for a moment. “How close was your sister’s house to the houses on either side of her?”

“Her house was on a corner lot, so there was only one house to the north side of her. It was fairly close, I guess. Cicely was at a slumber party there the night Hannah was killed.”

“So a shot might not have been heard.” Wynter said this softly, as if she were talking to herself. She stared down at her food for a moment before finally swinging her gaze up to me.

“What do you want me to do, Sarah?”

“Paul Gleason is trying to help me. Unfortunately, his hands are tied, since my sister’s murder occurred in Kansas City. He mentioned that you have some contacts there. Someone who might be able to tell us what the police are actually thinking? I just want to know what’s really going on.” I shook my head. “Look, Wynter. I’m not trying to take over the police’s investigation. Maybe they’re on top of it. Maybe they listened to my concerns about Hannah’s murder. I mean, if they’re really investigating, then Paul and I need to stay out of the way.”

“Very good advice,” Wynter said, dipping her spoon into her chili. After taking a bite, she put her spoon down, and it clanged against the edge of the bowl. “What if we find out no one is taking your concerns seriously? That they’ve closed the case? What will you do? Try to solve this thing yourself? That’s a terrible idea.”

“That’s not my intention. I just want the police to do their job. Follow all the leads, not just narrow it down to their preconceived idea about some burglar. Any burglar.” I stared at her for a moment. “You pursued the truth about your brother. And you found him.”

“Yes, I did. And I almost got myself killed in the process.”

“But—”

“But you have a young person to take care of, Sarah. Someone who is counting on you. Someone who would be lost without you.” Wynter shook her head. “I think I know exactly what your sister would say if you asked her what you should do. And you do too, don’t you?”

I nodded but didn’t say anything. Part of Hannah’s letter ran through my mind. I’m counting on you, Sarah. I know you won’t let me down.

“Look,” Wynter said, interrupting the continuing loop of Hannah’s warning playing over and over in my head. “I’ll make a call. There’s a detective I trust in Kansas City. If the police aren’t looking into the connection between your sister and your parents, maybe he can express some concerns about the similarities in the case and get someone to listen. But after I do this, that’s it, Sarah. And the only way I’ll contact him is if you promise you’ll back off after he rattles the cage down there a bit. Do you understand? You spend your time teaching those school kids and raising that niece of yours, okay?”

“I just want to know that the police are taking my concerns seriously.” An idea popped into my head. “If your friend could find any records related to my parents’ murders, I’d really appreciate it. Since they were killed when I was a child, I don’t know much about the details. Hannah may have had some information, but if she did, I haven’t found it yet.”

She nodded. “I’ll see what he can do. In the meantime, keep looking for the file from that reporter. We need to find out what was in it that upset your sister.”

“I will. And thank you.” I was relieved she’d agreed to help me, but no matter what she found out, I had no intention of backing off until I knew the entire truth. If Wynter wasn’t able to get me the information I needed, or if her ability to open up a new round of inquiry wasn’t accomplished, I’d have to find another way. Now, more than ever, I was determined to find the truth and bring justice to my murdered family.