The desire to hop into my vehicle and hightail it back to school has been tugging at my chest all morning. If I’m not with Rocco, there’s no point in being here.

  I’m nearly done with my cereal when an ear-splitting wail cuts through the silence. It’s so profound that I wonder if it’s from a human or an animal. My dad’s working for the landscaping business all day and Diane doesn’t answer when I call for her.

  I sprint in the direction of the horrific sound, flinging open the door between the kitchen and garage.

  My mother is pinned between my SUV and the garage’s concrete wall.

  Her upper body is bent over the hood in a peculiar way that makes me believe her internal organs below her ribcage have been crushed. It’s feasible to assume her torso has been severed in half. As long as I live, I’ll never forget the utterly vulnerable look straining her abnormally dull brown irises. Even though I hate her for the way she treated me, it’s jarring to witness.

  “What happened?” I sprint the remaining distance to her and hold my hands out at my sides as I assess the situation. I’ve never felt so helpless. “What do I do?”

  When she begins to cry, her pain is palpable. “Hel’ me…p’eas.”

  “If I get inside the vehicle, it might crush you even more!” I glance between my SUV and the door open to the kitchen. “I need to go inside and call nine⁠—”

  “No…‘ime,” she rasps.

  With a rumble of anger, it occurs to me she’s dying.

  But she can’t die. Not yet. Not until I know the reason for all the things she did.

  I grind my teeth together, hands fisted at my sides. I refuse to let her slip away so easily.

  “Why were you so mean to me, Mom? Why didn’t you love me?”

  “Only wan’ed…protec’ you,” she wheezes as blood dribbles from the corners of her mouth.

  “Protect me from what?” I demand with a shake of my head. “Why did you keep me locked up for most of my childhood like you were ashamed of me? What did I ever do to you and Dad to make you both hate me this way?”

  “He was goin’…hurt…”

  “Who? You mean Dad? Who was he going to hurt?”

  Blood seeps into the whites of her eyes.

  She releases one final gasp.

  Then she’s gone.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  PRESENT DAY

  Josephine

  On the drive from the treatment center back to Federal Hill, I can’t stop revisiting the short conversation I had with Diane right before she died. Until now, my brain had tucked the memory away, probably because it’s too traumatic, and I’ve been afraid to dig any deeper into the meaning behind her choppy confession.

  Was she trying to tell me all those years ago that my dad was dangerous? It’s possible she was referring to one of my uncles. Why would they want to hurt me like she claimed? What in the hell happened to me and Josephine? What is everyone hiding?

  Outside of my aunt and uncle’s rowhouse, Rocco and I remain in the car while I relay my thoughts from our visit to the treatment center. “If Eddie can be taken for his word in his current state, there’s a lot of information Bill and Carolyn kept from us yesterday. It would definitely explain Carolyn’s nervous energy when the two of us were alone, and I started drilling her about Marianna.”

  Rocco nods while glancing at their front door. “They must also know Frank is infertile…you’d think it’s the kind of thing everyone in the family would know. That means Bill was telling a bold-faced lie when he said Diane suspected your dad had fathered Lizzy. Seems like a sloppy move to make when talking with a police detective.”

  “He hoped I’d direct any suspicions I may have in Frank’s direction to take the pressure off him,” I explain. It’s a common maneuver made by someone with a guilty conscience. “With Diane and their father dead, Frank with one foot in the grave, and Eddie indisposed, I imagine Bill believed he could get by with telling me anything. He was confident no one would be around to fact-check his allegations against the truth.”

  “Do you suppose it’s because he had something to do with Mariana’s disappearance?”

  “It would seem that’s the case.” I open the driver’s door and toss him the key fob. “If you don’t mind sitting tight for a few minutes, I’m going to do my best to extract the truth from the bullshit.”

  “It’s not a good idea for you to go in there alone,” he protests in a tone that’s non-negotiable. “Someone already shot at our car. They might feel threatened and shoot at you next, and you don’t have your service weapon. It wouldn’t hurt to have someone watch your six.”

  With a blend of annoyance and appreciation, I nod my head and motion for him to follow as I step out of the car. “Let’s go.”

  As we approach the front step, halfway down the hill, I spot Bill’s white Cadillac that we’d followed from the nursing home yesterday. Whether or not they have another vehicle, I’m not certain, but no one comes to the door after I ring the doorbell several times.

  “Maybe the treatment center gave him a heads up, told him Eddie’s niece stopped by,” Rocco decides. He glances beyond me to the edge of the building. “Want me to go around back and see if they’re on the patio?”

  Instinctively reaching for my weapon at my waist, I quickly curse myself for expecting it to be there. “Stay here to make sure no one sneaks out. I’ll check.”

  I jog along the perimeter of the building and round the corner into the alley. Each rowhouse contains its own miniature backyard enclosed with identical tall white fences. I approach the fourth one down and discover the gate wide open.

  Darting inside, I find Bill sprawled across the center of their brick patio, facedown and unmoving. At first glance, it doesn’t seem he’s bleeding anywhere. I rush to him, checking for a pulse, and note that he’s still breathing. I gently shake him and call his name. When he groans in response, I do my best to support his head as I assist him in rolling over to his back.

  His eyelids flutter open, and his pupils dilate as I crouch over him. “Bill, are you alright?”

  “Josephine? Is that you?”

  “Yes, it’s me. What happened?”

  He smooths his wrinkled forehead with an unsteady hand. “I’m not exactly sure. Someone must’ve knocked me out. The back of my head…it’s pounding.”

  “Were you back here alone? Where’s Carolyn?”

  “She was just here. Why does everything look so fuzzy?” He tenderly pivots his head to one side, wincing with the movement. “Oh…the pain.”

  “Do you have any idea where she may have gone? An appointment, maybe? Out to see friends?”

  Once again, he brushes his fingertips back and forth along his forehead. “I…I don’t remember. What day is it?” He releases a stifled moan. “Oh, my head…feels like it’s going to explode.”

  If he’s putting on an act for my benefit, he’s a damn good actor because he’s showing telltale signs of a concussion. He appears exceptionally feeble, making it difficult to imagine him as a killer in his younger days. But I’m no fool, and stranger things have happened.

  I extract my cell phone from my back pocket. “Try not to move, Bill. I’m calling for an ambulance.”

  After the EMTs load Bill into the box and the ambulance pulls out of the alley, Rocco and I stay behind to talk with the two police officers called to the scene. Officer Bradshaw is a husky man in his early 40s who walks with a purposeful gait and carries a hard expression that leads me to believe he’s seen it all. His partner, Officer Williams, is young, possibly a year or two out of the academy, and continuously throws me a deer-caught-in-the-headlights look whenever I inquire about something.

  “This wasn’t an accident,” I tell them. “When we came here to visit them yesterday, our rental car’s window was shot out, and some personal items were the only thing stolen. There have been other questionable incidents since we first arrived in the city. I believe someone is intent on hiding old family secrets.”

  “Did you check the house for stolen valuables after finding your uncle?” Officer Williams asks, her eyes sparkling with inexperience.

  “I wouldn’t know where to start.” I lift my shoulders with an exaggerated shrug. “I’ll have the victim’s wife contact you as soon as we’re able to locate her.”

  “I think we have everything we need to file our report,” Officer Bradshaw declares, flipping his notebook shut. He reaches into his uniform’s shirt pocket for a business card and hands it to me. “If you change your mind and decide to file a missing person report on Mrs. Kelly, call the station at this number. I don’t know how they do things in Minnesota, but there’s no waiting period in Maryland.”

  “There’s one more thing,” I add, pocketing the card. “A woman by the name of Marianna Haley went missing from this neighborhood in August of 1981. I suspect Bill may have had some involvement in her disappearance. Possibly Carolyn, too. Would it be possible for an officer to swing by Bill’s hospital room after he’s declared stable to ask him a few questions? Maybe, at the very least, they could establish whatever alibi he may have for the dates related to Ms. Haley’s disappearance.”

  Officer Williams gives me a quick once-over before batting her long eyelashes. “I would think you’re qualified for that job, Detective.”

  “He’s family, and he’s already fed me countless lies,” I explain. “I’d rather a uniformed officer blindside him when he’s least expecting it.”

  “Understood,” Officer Bradshaw replies with a curt nod. “I’ll run it by our Captain and see what we can do.”

  I shake his hand, then hers. “Thank you, Officers. I imagine our stay here has been extended by at least another day, so if you come up with any more questions, feel free to contact me using the number I provided with my statement.”

  Rocco and I stand shoulder-to-shoulder, watching as they depart. Air deflates from my lungs once they’re out of sight. “I don’t like how any of this is going down. It’s almost as if someone has been watching our every move since we arrived in Baltimore. Where the hell did Carolyn go? Did someone kidnap her, or did she do this to Bill?”

  Rocco wraps his thick arm around my waist and pulls me close enough to kiss the top of my head. “Breathe, Jo. You’ll figure it all out with time.”

  “What if I don’t? What if Marianna—the woman who could very possibly be my birth mother—stays missing? What if her body is never found? Whatever they did…whatever my family did…she deserves justice.” I press my forehead against his chest, feeling an instant surge of relief when he cocoons me in his arms.

  “Let’s grab a drink and something to eat from the same place we stopped yesterday. They had a great menu with fresh seafood. I bet you’ll think a little more clearly with a full stomach.”

  “As wonderful as that sounds, let’s put it off until later tonight. We can grab something from a drive-through on our way out of town.”

  His eyebrows lift. “Where are we going?”

  “It’s time we pay a visit to Marianna’s shack in Elk Neck.”

  An hour north of the city, when we locate the property listed on public records as still belonging to Marianna Haley, we come across a dirt road. Nestled inside a dense forest of varied hardwoods, evergreens, and shrubs, scrub trees, and waist-high weeds bombard the crude road. Rocco parks at the road’s entrance.

  I retrieve my coat from the backseat and open my door. “Guess we walk from here.”

  Other than the occasional rustle of animals scurrying through bushes, the crunch of our boots on the variegated terrain is the only sound to break the silence. I’ve had near-perfect hearing for most of my life, but when I stop to listen, I’m unnerved by the lack of noise. It’s like the forest is swallowing everything whole.

  “It’s almost too quiet here,” I comment, slightly startled by the sound of my own voice.

  “It’s the perfect place to bury old secrets.” His fingers slide around mine, giving them a tentative squeeze. “After we leave here, what do you think you’ll do?”

  “If you’re asking how soon I’m going to head back to Chaska⁠—”

  “I mean, what will you do about your dad…Frank. Are you going to confront him about the infertility thing?”

  “Telling him what I know wouldn’t do much good. He’s non-responsive. The nurses I spoke with after visiting with him told me they’d be surprised if he made it through the weekend. They said they’d reach out if there were any changes—good or bad. The fact that they haven’t called yet…” I shrug. “Either way, it doesn’t really matter.”

  “Do you think you’ll take a DNA test?”

  I consider the question. At this point in my life, I’ve accepted that I’ll never have a family I can count on. After learning about the Kelly family secrets since coming to Baltimore, I’d be more than happy if things were to remain that way.

  Highlighted beneath the afternoon sun’s strong rays, a little building comes in to view half a dozen or so yards ahead. It’s small enough and in such an advanced state of disrepair that I’m able to appreciate why everyone calls it a shack as opposed to a cabin. The wood siding has rotted out in places and it’s leaning to one side.

  I drop Rocco’s hand to point it out to him. “I think that’s it. That’s the place.” I quicken my pace to a faster clip before I break into a jog.

  “Jo, wait up!” Rocco calls out before grunting and swearing behind me. I glance over my shoulder to find him on the ground, struggling to release a complicated tangle of vines from around his boot.

  “I’ll meet you there!” Adrenaline propels me forward. If Marianna left any other clues as to the identity of the alleged killer, they’d certainly be here. Sometimes it feels as if the truth is within grasp. Ever since I found Bill unconscious, I swear it’s no closer than it had been before I made the trip down to Ames.

  I burst through the shack’s open door, giving the four walls a thorough scan. The place is empty save for a double bed in one corner, and smells mustier than the forest. I lift the mattress to check for any hidden items before dragging the entire bed away from the wall. The building’s interior has decayed as much as the outside, leaving gaping holes in the floorboards as well. One board sticks out from the others with a darker stain and mismatched grain pattern.

  “Bingo,” I whisper, bending to pry it up.

  Nestled inside a little cubby, I discover the journal and the photographs taken from our rental car.

  Who put them here? I wonder as I extract them.

  The sound of footsteps fall on the floorboards behind me, each one getting louder and closer. Before I have a chance to spin around and tell Rocco what I’ve discovered, I feel the cold touch of metal against the back of my head. My heart races as I try to speak, but the words get stuck in my throat. My mind races as I realize the gravity of the situation. Every second feels like an eternity, waiting for the inevitable click of the trigger.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  BEFORE

  Marianna

  Despite Lizzy’s close friendship with Josephine, her mother has never warmed to me. I get the impression she isn’t a friendly person in general. She seems the type to walk into a party and decide with a single glance that she’s better than everyone else in attendance. She’s not particularly attractive, though she’s overly tall enough for a woman to demand attention when she enters a room.

  At least she makes an effort to get along with the other mothers. Every time I drop Lizzy for a sleepover, I’m met with a cold, contentious stare that she attempts to mask with a stiff smile.

  She may as well outright accuse me of sleeping with her husband. It’s not like I could blame her or the other women in the neighborhood for treating me like a harlot.

  I’ve rightfully earned the reputation.

  It was never my intention to start affairs with married men, even though it was a behavior I may have unintentionally picked up from my mother. My interactions with them always started with a friendly wave or a polite conversation about the weather. Before I moved to Federal Hill, they’d usually offer to fix something inside my apartment they claimed needed attention or “bump into me” while on my weekly visit to the grocery store. After Lizzy was born, they’d sometimes stop in to chat while our children were playing together or sneak over while their wives were away to see if I knew where to score good weed. One time, I woke to find one sleeping in my backyard after a fight with his wife. The seemingly innocent excuses were endless.

  I never initiated anything. But once they started offering the kind of attention I failed to get elsewhere, I could not resist.

  Married men have always revered me as extraordinarily attractive. Maybe it’s because their wives are settled in their roles as caretakers, and they’ve become blind to how good they have it at home. Maybe it’s because they grow bored with the same woman. I suppose it could be my carefree spirit and the fact that I’m oblivious to social norms and fashion trends. I’m not exactly sure. All I know is they enjoy putting me on a pedestal and spoiling me like a princess.

  If a married man hadn’t offered to set me up in his neighborhood shortly after discovering I may be carrying his child, I would not have been able to afford my rowhouse. Looking back at the situation, I suppose it was his way of ensuring I remained a kept woman. He obviously enjoyed the benefits of sleeping with a younger woman and wanted to keep me close. I suppose it was also his way of bribing me so I wouldn’t spill the beans to his wife.

  As I stand with Lizzy on Josephine’s front step, intending to drop her off for what could be the final time, Josephine’s mom answers the door with the same cool stare I’ve come to expect.

  I crouch at Lizzy’s side to kiss her cheek. The way she clutches the pink mouse I made when she was born gives her a more youthful appearance. I try not to dwell on the idea of never seeing her again. “Remember what mommy said,” I whisper, drawing her into my arms for a brief hug. “Be a good girl, and listen to Josephine’s mommy.”