My father’s handwriting.
Strong, slanted, unmistakable.
Carol,
If you are reading this, then someone finally discovered what I protected.
The land belongs equally to you and your sister.
I stopped breathing.
Daniel frowned.
“Your sister?”
I whispered the name.
“Rebecca.”
My younger sister.
Rebecca Bell.
Beautiful, reckless Rebecca.
Dead for twenty-seven years.
At least, that was what we had believed.
Her car had gone through a guardrail during a storm. It was found crushed in a ravine, partially submerged in the river.
They never recovered her body.
But everyone assumed the current had carried her away.
My mother never recovered.
My father stopped speaking
Rebecca’s name.
And three years later, my mother died.
I kept reading.
Rebecca is alive.
I heard Daniel inhale.
The room tilted.
I gripped the letter harder.
Mr. Hale lowered his eyes.
“I helped your father protect her identity.”
I stared at him.
“You knew?”
