“Deidre told you that?” She sounded shocked at that possibility.
“No, it was another lady. Betsy.”
“She probably mentioned the spelling bee too.”
“She did!”
“That woman doesn’t forget a thing.” Marcia laughed. “Why were you asking about Via Belle?”
“I brought a few of Mom’s books with me. She was pretty proud that her favorite author was from Catawba.”
“I think Angeline read all of Via Belle’s books at least once. Maybe twice.”
“You didn’t read them with her?”
“I only opened a book when my teachers required it of me.” Marcia spoke to someone in the background and then returned to the phone. “There’s a road near the bridge that follows Hammer Creek.”
“I’m right beside it.”
“Perfect,” Marcia said. “Keep driving.”
White petals blew past Harper’s windshield as she turned, a summer snowfall sprinkling across the riverbank. “Service is sketchy back here. I’m afraid I’ll lose you.”
“Let’s see how far we can go.”
The river narrowed below the lane and disappeared into the trees. She followed the neglected path north, grateful for a truck to dodge the tallest weeds and scattered branches from last night’s storm. About two minutes up the lane, the road split, and her aunt told her to park beside the gate on her left, at the base of a hill.
“Hop out,” Marcia instructed.
Harper stepped out of the truck in her Tevas and checked the rusty gate. “It’s locked.”
“You don’t need to go inside. Just look up.”
Harper scanned the ceiling of trees, the sky. “I see a whole lot of green and blue.”
“Take a few steps back and try again.”
Harper skirted around rocks and branches until she reached the narrow lane. When she tilted her head back, she saw the tip of a tower rising above it, crowning the trees. “What is that?”
“A writing turret.”
“Seriously?”
“Built years ago by Via Belle’s husband.”
Gold burst on the canvas of blue as sunlight brushed the glass. Did the woman write about Verity in her turret?
“Who owns the property now?” she asked.
“Probably her estate. Much has been kept secret about that place over the years.”
“Mom never told me that Mrs. Belle was missing.”
“Knowing Angeline, she probably preferred to think of her as found even if no one in Catawba seems to know where she went.”
“What do you think happened to her?” Harper asked.
“No idea.” Marcia laughed. “But I bet it will fire up something in that imagination of yours.”
