Page 121 of The Vanished

“Dinah, would you have any objection to us dramatizing Honor and Geneva’s story on Echoes from the Past?” Rhys asked.

“Not at all. I think their story ought to be told. They deserve that much.”

“Is Rose’s daughter still with us?” Rhys asked.

“If she is, she would be close to one hundred. Ruby never had children of her own, and her husband passed years ago.”

“Dinah, there’s the question of Honor’s remains,” Quinn said gently.

Dinah nodded. “I will see Honor buried. Next to her sister. I think it’s fitting that they should be reunited.”

“It is,” Quinn agreed.

“Do you have any photographs from that time?” Rhys asked. “The viewers would love to see what Geneva and Honor looked like.”

“I’m sure I can find some. I still have some of Geneva’s things, and, of course, I kept the photo albums.”

Dinah left the room. She was gone for quite a while but eventually returned with an ancient photo album. The faux leather cover was stiff and cracked, and the pages had faded to a soft beige. There weren’t many photographs from the first half of the twentieth century, but a few had survived. Goose bumps stippled Quinn’s arms as she turned the pages, looking at the faces of people who were long gone but so vividly alive in her mind.

There was Geneva, and Honor, and their father, imposing in his military uniform. There were no photographs of Rory Sullivan—he was hired help—but there was one photo of Jesse and Geneva, taken at the New Year’s Eve celebration to commemorate their engagement. Perhaps Geneva would have destroyed it had Douglas not stood next to them, looking stooped and frail but obviously sincerely pleased. Geneva might not have been able to get rid of the final photograph of her father.

Quinn focused her attention on Jesse. He was a handsome man with beautiful eyes and a movie star smile. She didn’t suppose they’d ever know who he really was or what had become of him, but it didn’t matter. He’d be long gone, and, if he had any descendants, they probably wouldn’t know anything about his stint at Bellamy Hall. And it was doubtful they would ever discover what had happened aboard the RMS Olympic. Perhaps the real Jesseph’s death was an accident, or maybe he was murdered by someone who had known about his deadly allergy. Either way, his identity had clearly been stolen by an ambitious steward who had nearly pulled off his ruse.

They left Dinah’s house, Rhys carrying the carefully wrapped photo album beneath his arm. Quinn’s mind was still on Jesse.

“Do you think we might be able to locate him through the White Star archives? If he was an employee, they must have some record of him.”

“Not without a name,” Rhys said. “He would have been one of dozens on that ship, and unless they kept a photograph of every employee, which is doubtful given this was 1923, we’ll never be able to identify him.”

“Shame,” Quinn said. “I would have liked to know his story.”

“And if he killed Jesseph Bellamy,” Rhys added. He smiled happily as he got into the car. “We have a solid story, Quinny. It will make for excellent television and a worthy addition to the Echoes from the Past lineup.” He turned to her and grinned. “Christmas special next year?”

“Sod off, Rhys,” Quinn said and grinned.

“I’m not so easily dismissed.”

“Don’t I know it! Now, take us home.”

EPILOGUE

Alex watched his mum hide the bracelet in the drawer of the desk and leave the study. He wasn’t supposed to go in there, and he had been warned many times not to touch items that might have belonged to someone who’d died, but he couldn’t resist the lure of that bangle. Looking into the past was like watching a scary movie. He sometimes covered his face with his hands, then peeked between his fingers to see what was happening on the screen. Alex had seen that girl in the well. And she had been just a girl, only five years older than Emma. It had horrified him to see her suffering, but it had also frightened him when he’d felt her pain. That had never happened before. But strange as it might seem, he felt connected to her and wanted to know how her story ended. He’d heard his mum say that she had been murdered by her cousin. That was like him murdering Max. It was unthinkable.

After making sure the coast was clear, Alex slipped into the study and shut the door. Then he pulled the bag out of the drawer and studied the bracelet through the plastic. It was so pretty. Like something out of Lara Croft. A shimmering golden snake with an emerald eye, swallowing its own tail. Wicked. Alex opened the bag and stared at the bracelet, terrified and mesmerized in equal measure. Mum would be angry if she found out, but he had to see. He’d drop it if he got too scared. He reached into the bag and wrapped his fingers around the cool metal. And then he was there. He was her…

* * *

Honor slowly came to. Her thoughts were sluggish, as if she were half-asleep, and she tasted blood. Her tongue felt weirdly thick, and she couldn’t do much more than moan. She tried to lift her arm, but her limbs felt leaden, and she couldn’t seem to open her eyes. She tried again to call out, but nothing came out, not even a whimper. It was like her body had shut down but her mind was awake, if only just. She felt like she was wading through treacle as she tried to make sense of what had happened. Dr. Miller was downstairs. Rose must have gone to get him. He’d help her. Hot tears slid down her temples and into her hair. She wanted Geneva, and Father. She wanted her mum.

The door opened and someone walked in. She heard the door click shut, and then two sets of footsteps approached.

“You stupid girl. What have you done?” Clarissa hissed.

“It wasn’t my fault. She went for me.”

“Tell that to the police. Just look at her,” her aunt exclaimed.

“She’s still alive,” Rose wailed. “I’m sure she is. We must get her to the hospital.”