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They were reaching the center of the swamp.

“There.” Livia abruptly broke the silence, pointing toward a large lump of darkness just ahead of them. “Do you see that?”

Bryce aimed her flashlight toward the mound. The glow reflected off a smooth surface, revealing it wasn’t natural.

“It looks like a tarp,” Bryce said, cautiously walking forward. She cursed as she nearly stumbled over a hard object that had sunk into the boggy ground. Presumably it was one of the barrels that Adrian had placed around the supposed quagmire. Over the years it had disintegrated into a pile of rusty metal. Thank God she’d recently had her tetanus booster. Cautiously stepping over the death trap, she swept a beam of light over the black plastic-coated tarp, making sure there were no nasty snakes curled on the top. Then she motioned for Livia to walk to the other side of the mound. “You take that end and we’ll pull it off without disrupting what’s underneath.” She waited for Livia to move into place. “Ready?”

Livia nodded and they both bent down to grab the edge of the plastic cover, gently peeling it back to reveal the contents hidden underneath.

“Yes. We were right,” Livia breathed.

Bryce studied the cardboard boxes that were piled in a haphazard heap. As if someone had tossed them out of the back of a vehicle. Leaning forward, she grabbed the top box.

“Clothes in this one.” She pushed it aside to open the next box. “Towels. And sheets.”

“I’ve got two boxes of cookbooks over here,” Livia muttered. “Who needs so many cookbooks? And what is this?” She pulled something out of the third box, holding it up to reveal a small ceramic statue. “Chicken figurines? There must be a hundred of them.”

Bryce pushed aside box after box that were filled with silverware and cooking utensils until she found a smaller box that was stuffed with manilla file folders.

“Here we go.”

Squatting down, Bryce pulled out the files and flipped them open, one by one.

There was the sound of squelching footsteps wading through the mud before Livia was crouching beside her.

“What did you find?”

“I’m assuming it came out of Stella’s filing cabinet.” Bryce skimmed through the stacks of papers. “Taxes. Bills. Bank statements. All of them have Stella Gates’s name on them.” Bryce reached the end of the files, setting aside the taxes and bank statements. She’d go through those later. It was impossible to know if there was anything sketchy or illegal in them until she could get them to the office. She leaned forward, peering into the bottom of the container. “What’s this?”

Reaching in, she grabbed the shoebox and pulled it out. Livia scooted closer as Bryce pushed off the lid.

“What’s inside?” she asked.

“Trinkets.” Bryce flicked through the keychains and postcards that Stella had collected from her trips to Dollywood and the Grand Ole Opry. Below them was a stack of old pictures. “And these.” She handed the photos to Livia, shining the flashlight on them. “Do you recognize anyone?”

Livia shuffled through the first few, shaking her head. Then suddenly she sucked in a sharp breath.

“This is my mom.” She tilted the picture so Bryce could see a beautiful young woman with long honey brown hair and piercing blue eyes. She was standing in front of the Willows with a baby cradled in her arms. “That’s me she’s holding.”

Bryce studied the picture. There was nothing to indicate there was anything out of the ordinary. Just the opposite. Giselle was smiling widely, her happiness unmistakable.

She placed the photo on top of the files to keep it dry. She didn’t doubt Livia would want to keep it.

“What are the other pictures?”

“More of me,” Livia said with a tremor in her voice. As if she was touched by the knowledge that her old nanny had kept so many photos of her. She flicked through the pictures of her as a baby lying on a blanket and crawling through the garden and splashing in the bathtub until she reached the last photo. “This one is different.”

Bryce leaned toward Livia, her brows tugging together as she studied the strange man with dark hair who was wearing a uniform and leaning against a gleaming limo.

“A chauffeur?” Bryce shook her head. “Is he a relative of Stella’s?”

“No, it’s Manny.” With an unmistakable surge of excitement, Livia flipped the photo over. As if she was expecting to find something. “Look. Stella wrote on the back.”

Bryce read the scribbled words out loud. “‘I know what happened.’” She glanced toward Livia. “Do you know what this means?”

“No, but Manny has to be involved with the mystery. There was a picture of him hidden in my mother’s private scrapbook.”

“He worked for the Benoits?”