Marta climbed in behind the wheel of the van. Harper could see the dog’s big head looming over the back of the seat, big eyes looking confused, as if wavering between fear and hope.
“Marta,” Harper called out on impulse. “If he doesn’t belong to anybody, and no one wants him, let me know.”
Once the murder case was closed, it became public knowledge that Delilah Mason’s will explicitly disinherited her brother, Asher, “for reasons of which he is well aware.” A local arts education program for children received a sizable endowment, as did a society devoted to alternative medicine. Sigrid was bequeathed the painting with the vines that Delilah had promised her, and there were a few other individual heirs named, such as Tariq, Mario, and a few other friends.
But the bulk of Delilah’s estate, including the Perles Mansion, went to the antiquarian society. Constance Bell was beside herself with joy when she called Harper with the news.
“I’m so happy for you,” Harper said. “There are a few things we should probably talk about, though, before you decide how you’re going to use the mansion. A few safety issues, so to speak. But I might know people who know people who can help.”
None of this was easy to explain, but Harper was as open as possible as she told Constance why she needed permission to look for the remains of a baby buried long ago, under or near the angel statue in the garden.
It wasn’t easy to explain, but when she showed Constance what Delilah had written in Soren’s lab journal, Constance looked up and met her eyes. “I won’t pretend to understand, but I know a forensic anthropologist I can call. If there’s anything to find, she’ll find it.”
“And then we can bury the bones with Isabel.”
Constance nodded, adding: “Like I said, what good’s an antiquarian society without a ghost or two? I mean, I didn’t really mean it literally, but…”
Constance also gave Sigrid permission to call in someparanormal mediums to make contact with the spirits in the home, and to help them settle.
Which was how Harper found herself once more back in the living room of the Perles Mansion, standing in front of the ornate gilt-framed mirror. It was no longer covered in a shroud.
Harper held up her hand and placed it on the cool glass. Then she waited.
Isabel gradually appeared before her. She held up her hand. Their palms met.
“We’ll find your baby’s bones,” said Harper. “We’ll lay them to rest beside yours.”
Isabel placed her hand over her heart.
The two women stood there for a long moment, connecting—against all reason—over the centuries, and across the veil.
“I will live here.” I said that as a child, the first time I stepped in the cursed Perles Mansion. It was not premonition as much as it was fate.
Here I lived, and died, as did Isabel.
And here we will go on living. And dying. Forever.
Thirty-Seven
Asher was released on bail and, so far, at least, had kept his distance from Harper. His trial for breaking and entering and assault was scheduled in a few months. Through his lawyer, Asher had attempted to buy Harper’s silence with the offer of a hefty financial settlement, but she refused. Harper was not looking forward to testifying against him in court, but she saw no reason Asher should be let off the hook simply because he had plenty of money. More than anything else, she hoped he would get the help he needed, one way or the other.
Harper decided to keep silent about what she had read in the journal detailing the relationship between Delilah and Asher. What would be the point? Delilah was gone, their youth was long since over, and Harper had no desire to contribute to an ongoing scandal. She had not lied when she told Highbaugh that she wasn’t a gossip.
Ellen was recovering nicely, and her son, Jonathan, decided to stay for a while to be sure she wasn’t alone. They stayed up late talking at Ellen’s kitchen table, and going over everythingthat had happened. At Ellen’s urging, Harper had made a decision.
The next morning she settled into her comfortable reading chair in her bright and cheerful apartment, picked up her phone, and dialed a number from her past. She still knew it by heart.
“Scout?”
“Harper? Is that you?” Scout’s soft voice registered shock, and trepidation. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong is that I haven’t heard your voice in far too long. You’re my only sister, and I miss you. And I love you. And I always will. Tell me what you’re up to. Tell me everything.”
Harper knew Tariq left work at the aquarium around six most evenings, so she waited outside on busy Cannery Row. Most passersby took one look at the huge black dog beside her and crossed the street.
“What do you think, bud?” Harper whispered. “Will he accept my apology?”
The dog gazed up at her, pure love in his eyes, and gave her a wag of his tail. It had taken him exactly one day of plenty of food, walks, and love to decide that Harper was his person. Luckily, Ellen was on board and even offered to dog-sit when Harper had to spend the day on campus.
