Page 38 of One Last Breath

“Yeah, you’re all right. Like I said, you’re curious, but you know when to stop. Lila never did.” She sips more of her tea and says, “But enough about us. Tell me about yourself.”

Judging caution to be the better part of valor, I allow the conversation to turn away from Lila. I share anecdotes of my teaching years with Annabelle but avoid talking about my childhood of my sister. I have my own secrets I’d rather not reveal.

I am convinced now that Annabelle is innocent. Her parents, however, are squarely in the middle of my radar once more.

I have to be careful, though. Lila made the mistake of showing her hand. If I am to find justice for her, I must keep mine close until the proper moment.

But I will find justice for her. Lila was only trying to do the same for Deirdre. She didn’t deserve to have her life taken from her. Someone must pay for her death.

And I will be the one to ensure that they do.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

I chafe the entire weekend with this new information in my hand. I want desperately to find answers now, but with nine young children under my care, I simply don’t have time. In my previous positions, I have dealt with one really young child, the eight-year-old Samuel Ashford. However, he is a relatively calm child, and I have his older brother and sister to help me.

The children on the Greenwood estate are not calm, and the oldest among them are both eight, so, unfortunately, I am forced to do my actual job Friday, Saturday and Sunday and leave the sleuthing for the week.

I don’t mind the job, of course. The children are sweet, and I enjoy playing with them and caring for them. It’s just hard to be patient when I have such a solid lead.

The positive side of this is that I have time to think about how I can approach this mystery. I can’t very well ask the elder Greenwoods directly. I’d be making the same mistake Lila did. I can’t risk harming the trust I have with Annabelle now, so I can’t press her for more information. She might not even have any for me. It’s perfectly reasonable to assume that the Greenwoods didn’t want to involve their seventeen-year-old daughter in the murder of her governess, so she may have given me all the information she has.

I don’t think approaching Christopher would be wise either. He didn’t seem happy with my interest in his mother’s secret geranium garden. I can’t imagine he’d be happy with me prying into the circumstances of Lila’s departure. Violet is not an option for obvious reasons. Nathaniel knows something, I am sure, but he is far too afraid of the Greenwoods to help me.

The answer lies in the garden. I am sure of it. I have to visit that garden and find the secrets it holds.

I’ll have to visit sometime when the family is all out of the house, though. That means waiting until Monday after breakfast. They all work, and it seems the servants never visit the gardens. The groundskeepers do, of course, but they seem to avoid the area near the geranium garden as much as they can, so I should be able to get in and out without being seen.

I’ll have to be careful with the plants. I can’t leave the garden torn up, or suspicion will undoubtedly fall on me. If I need to dig, I’ll need to dig the plants carefully without slicing through their roots and replace them one at a time.

That will be painstaking work. I may even have to split it up over several days if I don’t find anything right away.

But it will pay off in the end. I am sure of it. Everything leads back to Elizabeth and James, and Elizabeth leads back to the garden. I am quite sure that Lila never left this estate, and if she or any proof of her fate is here, it must be there.

Monday finally arrives. I experience a moment of frustration when it occurs to me that there are no gardening tools in the house, but I improvise by taking an aluminum stirring spoon from the kitchen. It won’t be as helpful as an actual trowel, but it’ll do well enough.

I hide it inside of my sleeve as I make my way to the garden. My heart pounds in my chest, and each noise I hear on my journey causes me to jump. What I’m about to do might put me in mortal danger.

But I have to do it. The voice of Lila’s blood cries to me from the ground. I carry enough guilt. If I add to it the guilt of leaving Lila’s murder unsolved, I will be driven mad.

Don’t you mean mad again?

I shake that thought away and approach the wrought iron gate. I lift my hand to the handle and pause for only a moment before turning it and walking inside.

I take three steps when Elizabeth's voice speaks clearly, "If you don't tell me where it is, we'll be ruined. Please. I know you can help me. For my children's sake, if not for mine, please tell me where I can find it. Tell me before he finds it.”

Why is she here? Why isn’t she at work? I was supposed to be alone. Damn it, what do I do?

I start to back away, careful to make as little noise as—

A branch snaps under my foot, and Elizabeth stops abruptly. The blood drains from my face, and I wonder if I should flee or act like I haven't heard anything.

Too late. Elizabeth rounds the corner, and when she sees me, she sighs and presses her hands to her face. Sweat beads on my forehead, and my mind scrambles desperately for something to say that can rescue me from this predicament.

Finally, she looks at me and says, “You can’t tell anyone. Please. You can’t tell anyone you heard me. They’ll think I’m crazy.”

I swallow. “I don’t think you’re crazy.”

She nods and brings a hand to her mouth. She bites her nails absently, and her eyes dart back and forth. She is absolutely crazy.

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