Helen, Hugh Brandon, Celeste Brandon, and Marjorie Grayson sat around a circular table. Helen had her hands folded in her lap. Hugh and Celeste rested theirs on the edge of the table. Marjorie’s were crossed in front of her. They all stared at one another, but no one said a word. It was like a game really—who goes first?—even though everyone knew Marjorie was the ringleader of the bunch.
Years earlier they had agreed that what really happened the night of Roxanne Rafferty’s disappearance would never pass their lips again. They had also agreed that no matter how much time went by, it would be wise for them to keep their distance from one another. Well, all except Hugh and Celeste. After all, they were married.
Not to disappoint, Marjorie spoke first. “Honestly Celeste, I really don’t know what you were thinking.”
Celeste crossed one leg over the other and avoided Marjorie’s gaze. “What do you mean?”
“Dottie Davis? What kind of name is that?”
“A damn good one if you ask me. How was I to know the girl would come here?”
“Dottie Davis doesn’t exist!” Marjorie howled. “How long do you think it will take my granddaughter to figure that out?”
“Long enough for us to make a decision. That’s what we’re here for, aren’t we?”
“Which one of you followed me to the coffee shop?”
Hugh raised his pointer finger into the air but didn’t say a word.
“And you,” Marjorie said, shifting her focus to him. “Posing as a detective, stealing the dress, and then hitting that young man over the head with a shovel. What the hell has gotten into you people?!”
Hugh rubbed his hands together as though he was washing them. “He was about to discover Norman’s body. I wasn’t trying to hurt him. I panicked.”
“You were supposed to keep your distance. That’s what we agreed upon, remember?”
Helen, who up until now had been quietly taking it all in, slammed a hand down on the table. “All of this might have been avoided if you had burned that dress along with all of the other evidence.”
“The dress was my mother’s. It’s one of the only things I had left of hers. I know it was wrong to keep it. But after so many years, I never thought it would matter.”
“None of us would even be here if it wasn’t for you, Marjorie,” Helen pointed out.
Marjorie clenched her teeth together, fighting to maintain her composure. “Meaning?”
“The reason the girl came here in the first place is because she inherited that house. Your house. If anyone is to blame in all of this, it’s you. It was bad enough when Detective Dobbs wouldn’t stop sniffing around all those years ago. Now your own granddaughter is playing detective!”
Marjorie leaned back in the chair and rubbed circles around her eyes with her fingers. “My daughter died—I always assumed she wouldn’t ever care to go back there. I figured by the time I passed on, it wouldn’t matter anymore. I was wrong.”
Hugh laughed. “You were wrong? I never thought I’d see the day.”
All three women glared at him. None of them smiled.
“If you’re quite done, Hugh, we have a decision to make,” Marjorie said.
“I still think we could drive her away from that house,” he said.
“We can’t. Nothing will make her leave. Not now.”
Hugh sighed. “How can you be so sure?”
It was a question she couldn’t answer. Not with the truth. Explaining Addison’s ability was something she’d never do—they wouldn’t understand anyway. No one ever did. The spirit of Roxanne Rafferty was alive and well at Grayson Manor, and there was only one way to get her out. “I met with my granddaughter yesterday, as you all know. I didn’t just ask her to leave, I begged her. She refused. Norman’s body was dug up by investigators last night. Even if my granddaughter left now, it would be too late. There will be more questions, and Addison won’t know how to answer them. The manor will be searched again.” Marjorie paused and glanced at each one of them. “And you all know we can’t allow that to happen. A lot has changed since Roxanne died. Forensics is far more advanced than it used to be, and this time, we won’t be able to stop them from finding the evidence.”
Celeste nodded. “We need to tell Addison the truth. It’s time.”
“And then what—she goes to the police?” Helen threw her hands in the air.
Celeste shrugged her shoulders. “What can they do to us now? It’s a risk, but we don’t have much choice.”
Marjorie stood. “Well then, are we all in agreement?”
Celeste looked at Hugh, who looked at Helen. Helen clasped her hands together and hissed a low but audible, “Fine. We’ll tell her. But the moment it goes south, so do I.”