The response from the remote server was:
550 5.4.1 Recipient address rejected: Access denied.
--------Forwarded message--------
From:Vivian Lawrence
To:Xavier Sánchez
Dear Xavier,
I really need to talk to you. It’s very important. I received the note you left for me at the Knox, but I didn’t completely understand it. You may have heard that that night, I took a spill down the stairs. I was in the hospital for a while, but now I’m okay. We need to talk. Let me know the best way to get in touch.
—Vivian
From:Vivian Lawrence
To:Rachel Stein
Rachel,
Do you know where Xavier is? Do you have his updated email address? The one I have for him got bounced back. Please let me know. It’s very important I reach him. Thanks.
—V
Taylor
Taylor opens her apartment door and collapses on the uncomfortable, too-small couch, whose frame is sticking into her like a bony protrusion. She should move to her bedroom, but she’s too exhausted, her head fuzzy from everything she’s learned today.
Your mom was strung out. The deeper she got into drugs, the more erratic her life became. Vivian was romantically involved with Peter. Vivian’s ancestors come from the Knox. Vivian fell at the Knox. Vivian is alive. Vivian is missing. Vivian. Vivian. Vivian.
Vivian floods her mind, overtaking her mom, like a dam that’s burst.
There’s a terrible thought that begins swimming inside Taylor: If the Knox realized Vivian was a distant relative, and possibly owed an inheritance, then what lengths would they go to secure their fortune?
Suddenly, Taylor hears footsteps outside her door. Holding her breath, she waits. Is it Sam? No; she’d noticed his street-level lights were off—he’s not home. It must be one of the upstairs neighbors, traipsing around the too-thin floors.
There are no more footsteps, and she lets out her breath. Maybe she imagined it. But in the next instant, she startles: The scream from earlier keeps slicing through her subconscious like a sharp knife.
She shakes her head, gets up to grab a glass of water. As she takes a sip, she spots an envelope at the foot of her door. Someonewasin the hall earlier.
Taylor Adams, due to private internal affairs, we do not require your presence at the moment.* Please report back to work on Monday morning. Thank you kindly for your attention to this matter.
*Any violations of this request shall result in immediate dismissal and may be subject to legal repercussions.
This must be the paid “staycation” Liam was referencing. Taylor angrily crushes the note in her hand. How can she figure anything out if she’s not allowed back at the Knox?
A thought suddenly seizes her: Was she brought on by the Knoxbecauseshe’s a link to Vivian? No—she rejects the idea. Anna is the one who referred her. She wouldn’t—and couldn’t—have known that Taylor took care of Vivian. Boston just happens to be a small, incestuous city.
But still. There are so many coincidences, so many questions and no answers at all.
She wonders how—or if—Peter and the other members fit into Vivian’s disappearance. Anna mentioned that a well-dressed man had come around Vivian’s antiques store—that could havebeen any of the Knox members. Have they been paying Vivian’s rent? Or is Taylor drawing loose connections?
She suddenly misses her dad fiercely. She’d give anything to rewind time, to be back home in her childhood bedroom, when the most worrisome thought was how she was going to escape the boredom of her town. Before she knew the truth about her mom. A truth that she’s currently squashing into a tight ball, trying to keep apart from the rest of her. She cannot even begin to fathom it, not really. All she knows is this: As much as she longs for her dad, there is no way in hell she can speak with him right now—not after how he betrayed her trust all these years.
Trust.
She remembers what Liam said to her:Peter is the one who brought me here, from across the pond…. It’s all about trust here…. The Knox scales down to essential personnel only.
