“Oh…” She blinked. “Uh, that’s a photograph, like in the books I showed you. It’s created by uh… a machine which is able to recreate an exact likeness of, well, anything, people, places.”
“Amazing,” he murmured. “She is very beautiful.”
“Yes, she was.” Olivia stared at the picture.
“Was?”
“She’s dead.” She reached out and turned it face down on the mantel, closing down the conversation. Ever since she’d heard her father had escaped, that night had played on her mind. She’d spent years trying to shut it out, but now it was almost impossible. The doll had shaken her up more than she wanted to admit, and right now, she couldn’t bear to think about her mother at all. It hurt too much.
“I’m sorry,” Theo said softly. “I lost my mother too.”
Olivia nodded, not trusting her voice. She could see the pain in his eyes. She had no doubt losing his mother had been painful for him. She could hear in his voice the love he had for his mother, and the aching note of loss. Although part of her sympathized, she wasn’t ready to share her pain with anyone.
“I have something for you.” She set her cup down on a nearby table, changing the subject.
He placed his cup down and watched as she climbed onto a chair and pulled a small leather-bound chest from the top of one of the bookcases. Placing it on the desk, she opened it and reached inside. Before she’d even withdrawn her hand, he recognized what she held.
“My journal,” he breathed out as she placed the shabby leather-bound volume into his hands. “Hester?”
Olivia nodded. “She kept it. I found it in among her belongings.”
He turned it over in his hands reverently, as if he were familiarizing himself with it again. He opened it and scanned down the first few pages to convince himself it was real.
“I didn’t read it,” Olivia told him. “I mean, well, not all of it. I was going to, but I didn’t get around to it. Then you showed up in front of my car, and I couldn’t do it. It’s one thing to read through someone’s private thoughts when they’ve been dead for a few centuries, but suddenly, you were real, and I just...” She shook her head. “It was too personal.”
He pressed the book back into her hands. “Keep it.” His voice was a low rumble.
“Why?” She frowned.
“I do not claim to be a good man, Olivia. I wish I could tell you I was, but I want you to know me. I want you to believe, truly in your heart, that I won’t hurt you. Perhaps the journal will be of some use and through its pages you may come to an understanding of the man I was and the choices I made.”
Time seemed to pause as they stood staring at each other until a loud knock at the door startled them out of the moment. Drawing back from him, not sure how to process what she was feeling, she set his journal down safely and headed out into the hallway. Stopping behind the door she looked through the peep hole and bit back a frustrated groan.
Opening the door, she stepped out of her front door and onto the porch, not wanting to give him any opportunity to step into her home. Crossing her arms in front of her, her gaze hardened, and she felt Theo step up behind her, hovering protectively.
“Chief Walcott,” Olivia greeted the older man coolly.
“Ms. West,” he replied, his hawk-like gaze taking in the tall dark-haired man behind her. “And Mr. Beckett. Well, this is a surprise.”
Olivia knew damn well that wasn’t true. He’d had his deputies following her for days.
“I thought you two didn’t know each other?”
“We didn’t,” Olivia answered, her tone flat. “Now we do.”
“Indeed.”
“Cut to the chase, Chief. Why are you on my property?”
“As you may be aware, we have discovered Brody Walker’s body not far from here.”
“Why on earth would I be aware of that? I don’t go into the woods.”
“Now, that’s not exactly true, is it, Ms. West? You went into the woods the night you discovered Adam Miller’s body.”
“Yeah, and that turned out so well, didn’t it?” she snapped waspishly. “I avoid the woods now.”
“Ms. West.” His voice dropped to a more intimidating tone as he stepped closer.
