Page 58 of Little Hidden Fears

“I will answer what I can. But first, more champagne.”

I poured her another glass.

“Did you see the person who murdered you?” I asked.

“I saw everything.”

“What can you tell me about it?”

“I can’t. There are certain things you must realize for yourself.”

“Why did you write Gabe a letter?”

“I wanted to move on from who he was, who I was, and I realized I couldn’t until I forgave him.”

“I’ve seen him. He seems like a changed man, but I don’t know. I have another question. There was a woman who fled from the women’s center. I know you wanted to hire a private investigator to find her. Did you?”

In the last couple of minutes, I’d noticed a shift in her appearance.

She was fading.

“It’s been nice, sitting here, talking to you tonight,” she said.

“Please don’t go. I have so many questions you haven’t answered yet.”

“Look at me, Georgiana.”

I did as she asked.

“What’s in front of you is just as important as what’s behind,” she said. “Think about all we’ve discussed tonight, and know this, I’ve already told you everything you need to know.”

CHAPTER 22

When I woke the next morning, my thoughts were still on the dream I’d had the night before and how it was unlike many of the others. What stuck in my mind was the comment Noelle had made about how she’d told me everything I needed to know, because I didn’t believe she had.

Nothing she said pointed me to her killer.

Not yet.

I spent the morning with Luka, giving him the much-needed attention he lacked when I’d arrived home so late the night before. And while I was sure he would have preferred to go on a ride-along with me today, it didn’t seem right to leave him in the car while I made the stops I needed to make.

As I slid my shoes on, he let out a soft whine, letting me know he wasn’t thrilled I was leaving.

I bent down, giving him a quick scratch. “I’m sorry, buddy. I’ll come home earlier today, okay? I promise.”

He continued to brood, his eyes locked on me as I headed out the door.

I thought about who to see next, landing on Owen’s uncle, Alexander Beaumont, and I headed to his home. Given he was well known in the area, finding his address had been easy. What wasn’t easy was gaining an audience with him, as his sprawling estate was hidden behind a giant iron gate.

I approached it and looked around, my eyes coming to rest on an intercom system. I pressed the call button and waited.

A few seconds later, a male voice came through the intercom’s speaker. “Can I help you?”

“Is Alexander home? I’d like to speak with him.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Georgiana Germaine.”

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