Page 20 of Edge of Whispers

One thought kept coming back to me, circling around and around in my mind. I opened my mouth and voiced it. “He wasn’t satisfied the last time. He’s still angry.”

Liam slanted me a cautious glance. “You really think it’s the same person?” he asked, his voice even. “From what the cop said, it’s a very different kind of crime.”

I shook my head, reluctant to speak. Anything I said was just going to sound like grief-stricken rambling. I pressed my hand hard against my mouth as I stared at the ruined table, painstakingly crafted by some nameless artisan hundreds of years ago—smashed to splinters by a brain-dead hoodlum. It was as if someone had defaced Lucia’s grave. Ugly, vicious, and very personal.

I shuddered, and Liam’s hand tightened. “Want to go outside and get some air?”

I snapped myself to attention and shook my head.

“I am so sorry,” he said. “It was such a beautiful thing.”

I nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes, exactly. A thing. On the one hand, it’s a precious heirloom full of history and memory. On the other, it’s just an inanimate old thing, carved from ancient wood. I just don’t know how to feel about it.”

“You don’t have to choose,” he suggested gently. “Both things can be true at once.”

I was moved by the comprehension in his eyes. I looked away quickly, but there was no place to rest my eyes in that entire room that did not hurt to look upon.

“I, uh ...” He stopped himself, looking doubtful.

“What?” I demanded.

“I could try to repair it,” he said carefully. “I’ve done a lot of furniture restoration. It’s a thing I really enjoy. My mother was heavy into antiques, and I’ve been working on wood joining for years. I wouldn’t expect payment for the labor. It would be a privilege to work on it. Even so, you might be better off contacting a specialist.”

I stared at him for the briefest of moments. “I accept,” I said.

“Hold on,” he warned. “Not so fast. I couldn’t make guarantees. It’ll never be the same as before. There’s a lot of damage, and it would take a long time. With something like this, I’d go one splinter at a time, in my off hours. You’d better talk it over with your sisters first and see if you?—”

“Yes,” I said. “They’ll agree. I want you to do it. Only you. No one else.”

He studied my face, looking worried. “Well, fine, then. I’m willing to try, but I won’t hold you to it. Not until you talk to your sisters.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” I glared at him, daring him to rescind his offer.

“Uh, okay,” he murmured. “My pleasure.”

I realized I was clutching his fingers. Heat flooded into my face, and I whipped my hand away. “Sorry.” I headed toward the kitchen. His light footfalls followed, broken glass crunching.

The kitchen was just as bad. Cupboard doors had been torn off their hinges, their contents hurled to the floor with a violence that had shattered the floor tiles. The table was upended, the chairs were tossed, every dish was smashed. The garbage we’d forgotten about had been dragged out from under the sink, the plastic bag slashed open, its contents spread out over the floor.

“Guess I won’t have to go looking for packing boxes,” I said.

That was when I saw it. A crumpled piece of white bond paper, and something written on it, in Lucia’s elegant, slanted handwriting. I snatched it up, heart thudding.

“Nancy, hey. You’re not supposed to?—”

“I know, I know,” I said impatiently, shaking coffee grounds off the paper. The page was covered with scribbled handwriting, marked with small edits, some words crossed out, others scribbled in:

…will come as a shock to you girls, and no doubt you think me Machiavellian and foolish for creating this elaborate system of checks and balances, but after what happened to my father, after what this thing did to my marriage, I feel I cannot be too careful. Just please know this: I made these arrangements not because I do not trust you, but because I love you, and because you love each other. Love, like any precious thing, should be protected by every means possible. The older I get, the more I understand that it is the only thing worth protecting.

Then a couple of lines, both of which had been savagely crossed out, as if Lucia had been frustrated, searching for the right words:

The necklaces are the key to

You must use the necklaces together to discover the secret of

It continued with a new paragraph:

You are each in your own unique way great lovers of beauty—music, literature, and the visual arts, and so I devised the key to reflect

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