Page 23 of Five for Silver

“Mac,” Lucy said, pausing to stroke thephotograph. She hovered her hand above one photo frame, notdisplayed like the others, but face down on the mantelpiece. Chadheard her swallow, then she passed it, sitting down on an oversizedarmchair.

She sunk down with a long sigh, thenarranged a fluffy cushion. Her narrow fingers stroked through thestrands.

Curiosity picked at Chad, leading him overto the faced down picture frame. “Can I?”

Lucy nodded and Chad propped it up. Healready knew who’d be in that photograph. The quality didn’t matchthe other photographs, the colors were washed out, and a crease cutthrough the top, but there she was, Harriet Hastings, smilingbrightly.

She was beautiful, with long glossy brownhair, and pretty dark eyes. Her smile pressed dimples into hercheeks.

“My older sister,” Lucy said softly.“Harriet. Please,” she gestured to the sofa opposite her chair,“sit down.”

Chad and Josh shared a look, then sat downon the sofa, moving the array of cushions to get comfortable.Josh’s knees pressed against the coffee table no matter how much hetried to shuffle back into the sofa. He opted for a side-saddleposition, pointing his knees towards Chad’s legs.

Lucy continued to stroke her cushion, Chadsearched and failed to find a conversation starter, leaving Josh totake the lead.

“What kind of farm are you?” he asked.

Lucy looked up. “My grandparents grew crops,wheat and rape seed mostly, and later my parents introduced thechickens … they wanted to add sheep. That’s what the barn on thehill was built for. Harriet was so looking forward to them, and tolambing—we both were, but…” she shook her head. “That never came topass. Vincent Whitehall killed that dream, and now it’s just me andmy sons who run the farm, barely breaking even each month.”

“I’m sorry,” Chad bit his lip. “AboutHarriet. Vincent Whitehall, he’s a—”

“A puppeteer.”

Chad frowned.

“Harriet’s bedroom is untouched in the nextcottage. All her trinkets and clothes exactly as they were, exceptcovered in thick dust. My mom, Eileen, never gave up hope ofHarriet walking back through the front door and picking up whereshe’d left off. I’ve … I’ve not gone in there since my mom died sixmonths ago. Now her room is gathering dust, too.”

The door slammed, and Chad shuffled to maskhis jump. Andrew poked his head in the living room. He sifted hisfingers through his hair, neatening the sweaty strands. “I’ll bealong with the coffee in a minute.”

Lucy nodded. She closed her eyes and exhaleda long breath. Chad shared a look with Josh, then they waited. Theywaited for what felt like slow agonizing minutes for Lucy to reopenher eyes and speak. “I’m sorry, Chad, for following you. The truthis … I needed your help, but every time it came to asking for it, Ijust couldn’t. I didn’t want to involve you in this, but Vincent ispulling on the strings, and we’re just the puppets on the end ofthem.”

“The puppeteer.”

“Yes.”

“You’ve … visited Vincent?”

“No. He wrote to me. He knew … he knew howbadly my mom wanted to find Harriet. He knew it plagued her everyday, every thought. It tortured her, and I’m left wondering does itstill torture her, even in death. Can she not find Harriet, if wecan’t find her here?” Lucy wiped away a stray tear. “Four weeksago, I got a letter from Vincent. He told me how he’s turned acorner, and he wants God to forgive him for his sins.” She chuckleddarkly. “I don’t buy it, but he, and only he, knows the location ofmy sister, so I have no choice but to dance on these strings of histo find her.”

Andrew interrupted, placing a tray down onthe table. A coffee pot steamed, and Chad greedily inhaled thescent. Andrew made their coffee—Lucy waved her hand dismissivelywhen he asked her—then he made his own before perching on the armof his mother’s chair.

“I would’ve preferred it were just meVincent wanted to play his games with,” Lucy shook her head. “Butthere’s two others he wants involved. You and—

“James Poole.” Chad finished.

“Yes,” Lucy tightened her fist into thecushion on her lap. “James Poole.”

Josh knocked his foot into Chad’s ankle.They’d both noticed the change in Lucy at the name, the spike ofsomething angry, but she blinked it away.

“James came to see me today and explainedthe situation,” Chad said, gaging Lucy’s reaction. Her expressionstayed blank.

Andrew lifted his coffee, staring at Chadover the rim. “And you said?”

“I told him I was sorry, but I don’t want tobe involved.”

Andrew lowered his cup. “You are joking,right?”

“I’m not—”

---