I look up with tears beading my eyelashes.
“They didn’t find Eliza’s remains, but they caught the man who murdered her,” he says firmly. “Ronald Hastings, a known offender. He’s behind bars.”
My lungs finally draw a full breath, but it still doesn’t feel like complete relief. “He can’t do it again?” I look back down at Eliza’s face.
“No, but there’s more,” Gabriel adds, squeezing my hand. I guess he doesn’t want any more secrets between us. “Her mother died two weeks after Eliza was declared dead.”
Scarlett gasps. “What?”
“Died how?” I ask slowly.
“By suicide. She also had cancer before she died.”
No one speaks. Unspoken words hang in the air, thick and suffocating, as if saying them out loud would suck every breath of oxygen out of this entire apartment.
Gabriel’s hand is still holding mine tight and Scarlett hasn’t moved at all for the last three minutes, blankly staring ahead.
“What was her name?” I ask when I manage to wade through the shock.
“Brenda Bennett.”
“Okay.” I pick up my phone and type it into Goggle. I don’t even know what I’m looking for. I just need to do something.
An obituary appears almost immediately, linked to the town’s website.
Brenda Bennett, 43. Beloved member of the community. Passed away after a brief illness.
That’s it. After that there are only details about the funeral.
There’s no mention of how she died or a daughter.
Just a short paragraph followed by a request.
Fundraiser: Help Cover Funeral Expenses
Organized by: Grace Kitchen Outreach, 124 Ocean Road, Saltspray Cove.
The bank details at the very bottom complete the obituary.
My chest tightens painfully. “I need to know who Brenda was, so I can know who Eliza was.”
Gabriel frowns. “What?”
“I need to know what kind of child she was. Where she came from, and what happened before she ran from the camp.”
“That won’t change what happened,” Scarlett mutters, wiping away tears.
“And what if it does?”
Scarlett shifts slightly but says nothing.
I gather Eliza’s photo and the report page and slide them back into the envelope. Then I’m on my feet.
“Where are you going?” Gabriel asks.
“To Grace Kitchen.”
In the bedroom, as I pull clothes from the drawer, a new fear slips into my thoughts.
