—
When I get home, I read the letter again. And then again. And again and again until I’ve memorized the entire thing and can recite it by heart, without even thinking. It’s late now, past 1 a.m. The only thing I can hear is the howling wind and the slight pounding of rain that might turn into snow. When I read Shaila’s letter for a final time, I feel the tears start to build, threatening to fall and ruin Shaila’s thick bubbly script. I wipe my face with my sleeve, desperate to preserve her words, her scary, wild, rushing words.
I wish she were here. I want Shaila to annotate each sentence, to explain why she kept her innermost thoughts from me. Why she could share them so freely with Kara.
My head throbs as I try to make sense of all of this, of everything Shaila did behind my back, of who she really was. Did I know her at all?
But I don’t want to think about that now. I want to find out who the person she wrote about is and what he knows. What he did.
There’s only one person I can call.
Rachel picks up on the first ring.
“Do you still have Kara Sullivan’s number?” I ask, not even bothering to say hello.
“Jesus, Jill. I’m sleeping.” Her voice is hoarse and groggy.
“Ugh, sorry.” I rest my head back against my pillow and close my eyes. Suddenly, I’m so tired, too.
Rachel sighs. “Kara Sullivan? I’m sure somewhere. Why?”
“There’s a letter,” I say. “From Shaila to Kara. We need to talk to her.”
“Wait,” she says. “You actually went?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
I hear muffling, like Rachel is putting her hand over the microphone part of her phone. “Just a sec, babe.” Then the rustling of sheets and a few footsteps.
“Sorry,” I mumble again.
“It’s fine. Frida wakes easily, that’s all.” A door closes behind her. “What the hell, Jill? Tell me everything.”
“No one was home. So, I just... did what I thought Shay might do. Found the spare key. Went inside.”
“Bold.”
“It was addressed to Kara. Shaila must have forgotten to send it. Or decided not to. It’s dated just a few months before she died.”
“What does it say?”
“It’s true,” I say, breathless. “Shaila was cheating on Graham.”
“With who?”
“I don’t know. She doesn’t name him.”
Rachel is silent for a second. “We have to talk to Kara,” she whispers.
“I know.” The last time I saw Kara was at Shaila’s funeral. She wore a black silk dress that looked too fancy for theoccasion. Her hair was perfectly set, falling down her back in waves, somehow untouched by the Gold Coast humidity. She was clutching a piece of paper. I remember that. Maybe it was another one of Shaila’s letters. “You guys go way back, too, right?”
Rachel doesn’t hesitate. “I’ve known her since she was born. Babysat her once or twice.”
“Can you find her? Can we see her?”
“The Sullivans cut us off after everything. But let me handle it, okay?”
“Fine.”
