Page 83 of The Vanished

Geneva hung the ornament on the tree and retreated to the drawing room, Honor and Rose’s excited voices the background noise to her thoughts. If only she had more time. In the novels she read, the heroines were always so certain of their feelings and ready to sacrifice all for love. Was she a cold fish, or was real life not as straightforward and it was natural to consider the pros and the cons and ask the really difficult questions?

And there was so much to consider, since she would be the one to make all the sacrifices whatever she chose. Rory would have a new life in America, and maybe, in time, become his own boss. If Geneva refused to go with him, there would be no shortage of women happy to share his life, and perhaps they would be better suited for him in both their beliefs and their expectations. And Jesse wasn’t bound to this place in any emotional way. He’d sell the estate and move on; the proceeds would enable him to live comfortably on Long Island, wherever that was. He would find someone to love him the way he wanted to be loved. He’d forget her sooner than he imagined and build a family of his own far away from Bellamy Hall, which would probably not even be called that anymore once it was sold.

Jesse had said he would settle an allowance on her, which presented Geneva with a third option. She could leave this place and create her own life, but the prospect of being out in the world on her own was even more frightening, since she would no longer truly belong anywhere or be able to count on protection from anyone. As much as she wanted to believe that she was a strong, independent woman, deep down she thought she was quite conventional and wanted the things she had been taught to desire—a home, a husband, children, and the freedom not to worry about money. But what she desired above all was to love and be loved in return.

“Genny, we’re finished trimming the tree. Do you want to go ice-skating?” Honor asked as she poked her head into the room. “Jesse is game. He said he’ll meet us at the pond.”

“Go on without me,” Geneva said.

She had no idea why, but she was frightened.

FIFTY-ONE

Alex was in the kitchen, his hands balled into fists and his shoulders hunched with tension. His face was contorted with fear, his mouth still open in a scream, and his eyes were staring, but Quinn was certain he couldn’t see his parents. Max began to shriek in terror, while Mia stood frozen, her back pressed to the fridge. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks as she stared at her brother, petrified. Emma came running from the bedroom, her headphones hanging around her neck.

“Mia, what happened?” Gabe cried.

“I… I don’t know,” Mia whispered. “He just started screaming.”

“Alex, son, can you hear me?” Gabe tried, but it was obvious Alex couldn’t hear anything. His hand went to his chest, and he began to make choking noises that quickly turned to wheezing.

Quinn stood rooted to the spot, unable to move as blind panic seized her and refused to let go. Seeing her reaction, Emma grabbed a shaking and whimpering Max and held him tight as the little boy buried his face in her midriff. Mia raced past Alex and disappeared into the bathroom, unable to watch.

Gabe sank to his knees. He took Alex gently by the arms and tried to get him to look at him. Alex had suffered from night terrors when he was small, so perhaps this was the same—a waking nightmare. And then, as she looked into her son’s eyes, Quinn knew, and she was filled with purpose. She hurled herself at Alex and tried to pry open his fist. He resisted at first, but then his fingers went slack, and he opened his hand.

Inside, slick with sweat, was the amethyst earring. Instantly understanding what had occurred, Gabe grabbed the earring before Quinn could touch it with her bare hands and shoved it into the front pocket of his shirt. Alex stopped screaming and looked at his parents in confusion. His mouth opened in incomprehension when his gaze alighted on Emma, who was quietly weeping.

“What happened?” he asked. “Mum, why is Emma crying?”

Quinn shook her head and momentarily shut her eyes. She wanted to shake Alex and berate him for touching the earring, but it was her fault. She’d thought she’d returned the container to her bag, but she must have left it on the worktop when she’d come inside. And what curious little boy wouldn’t check to see what it was? Alex should have known better. He was aware that certain objects could hurl him into the past, but, like Quinn, sometimes he couldn’t resist. To him it was like watching a film. Alex didn’t quite understand that what he was seeing was someone’s actual life. Or death. Was that what he had seen? He had been gasping and struggling to breathe. Was it possible that he had experienced Geneva’s final moments?

Mia slithered out of the bathroom and ran to Emma, who was cradling Max. He wasn’t crying, but he was still trembling and whimpering softly.

“Would you like to watch some funny videos?” Emma asked him. “Don’t worry, Mum, I’m not going on Insta. I have them downloaded,” she explained before Quinn could argue.

Max nodded, and the three children went into the bedroom and shut the door. For a moment, all was silent and still.

“Alex, what did you see?” Gabe asked once they heard Max giggling through the closed door, the incident already forgotten.

Alex shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about or relive whatever horror he’d just witnessed. It had never occurred to Quinn that such a thing could be possible, but what if he was able to see an alternative version of events? Or maybe the object had taken him to a different point in the same timeline. If what she suspected was true, then he had skipped directly to the murder and bypassed everything that had come before. But she had to be sure.

“Alex,” she said gently as she came to stand before him. “What did you see?”

The child was calmer now, and the bright lights of the kitchen and his parents’ presence obviously made him feel safe, but he still seemed a bit shaky. Gabe went to the fridge, poured a glass of orange juice, and handed it to Alex, who gulped it down and handed the glass back to Gabe.

“Better?” Quinn asked.

Alex nodded. The color had come back into his face, and the trembling had stopped.

“Alex, what did you see?” she asked again gently. “I know it was frightening, but you need to tell us, so that we understand.”

Alex nodded and sighed so deeply his shoulders drooped with the weight of his sadness. “I saw a lady.”

“What happened to her?” Gabe asked.

“It was dark,” Alex said, his voice very quiet. “And cold. The metal pressed against her shoulder blades and the backs of her legs as the wheels of the cart bumped over uneven ground. The sky looked so big, and it was full of stars. The moon was nearly full, and so bright. And there was snow on the ground.”

Alex’s voice was different, deeper, and the words were that of an adult, not an eight-year-old boy. Quinn found that strange since, as far as she knew, she’d never channeled anyone else once she’d come out of her trance, but she didn’t dare interrupt. Alex needed to tell the story in his own way.