Page 99 of The Vanished

“I look marvelous,” she purred. “Here, put some on. You’re pale as a ghost.”

They both turned at a knock on the door, and Rose came in. She was wearing an outmoded lavender gown, and her newly cut hair was pinned to her head. She looked deeply upset, and her eyes filled with tears when she saw Geneva and Honor in their beaded frocks and glittering jewels.

“Mother made me wear this and said I had to pin up my hair. I look dowdy and plain,” Rose said angrily. “It’s probably for the best that I can’t stay for the music. No one would ask me to dance anyway.”

“I would,” a male voice said from the corridor.

Jesse stepped into the doorway and smiled at the girls. He wore tails, and his hair was neatly brushed and held in place with pomade. He was clean-shaven, and his teeth looked very white in his tanned face.

“Ladies, you look stunning.”

“I don’t,” Rose whined.

“It’s not what you wear, Rose, but how you wear it,” Jesse said. “What makes a woman attractive is confidence.”

Honor instantly preened, and Rose looked at Jesse as if seeing him for the first time.

“You’re very confident,” she said.

“Tonight, I’m on top of the world.” Jesse’s gaze met Geneva’s, and he smiled a slow, intimate smile.

“So am I.”

Jesse stepped aside to reveal Douglas, who was also in his tails and looked better than he had in weeks. He smiled at the young people indulgently.

“I mean to see this year out on a positive note,” he said. “Now, finish getting ready and come downstairs. Our guests will be arriving shortly. Jesse, if you would help me down the stairs.”

“Of course, sir.”

After the two men and Rose left, Geneva took one last look at herself in the mirror, then turned to Honor.

“Give me Rose’s bracelet,” she said. “My wrist looks bare.”

Honor surrendered the bangle, and Geneva slid it onto her wrist. She was so nervous, her insides quivered like jelly, but it was as Jesse had said. It was all about confidence, and, even though she didn’t feel it, she had to project it, at least tonight.

“Come on. Let’s go downstairs,” Honor said.

“I’ll be down in a minute. You go on.”

Honor walked out of the room without another word. And then the image faded to black.

SIXTY-SEVEN

SEPTEMBER 2023

Keswick

Quinn opened her eyes and blinked in confusion. The vision had ended so abruptly that, for a moment, she wondered if she had dropped the earring. Then she understood. Honor had walked out of the room wearing the amethyst earrings. Geneva’s memories had reached their end, and the next chapter would unfold through Honor’s eyes once her memories had time to imprint. The events of that night were a century old, yet Quinn saw them play out in real time, and the shift in perspective required Honor to wear the earrings for a while.

Not that Quinn could spare much thought for any of that now. She was sick with worry about Max, and, as tempting as it was to escape into someone else’s mind for the sake of her sanity, she had to face the present head-on. And a far more chilling realization had struck her: the woman in the well might be Honor, not Geneva. They looked enough alike to make positive identification problematic.

Of course, she had no way of knowing when the victim had died, or whether Honor had ever returned the earrings to her sister. But after years of witnessing strangers’ final moments, she could sense when a story was building towards a tragic conclusion. One clue was the claddagh ring. Rory was due to leave on January the first, and it seemed unlikely that either Honor or Geneva had worn the ring after that, unless Rory had changed his mind and stayed, and something dramatic had occurred between them that had put him back in play with either sister.

Right now, none of that mattered. All Quinn cared about was Max. She put the earring away and stepped into the lounge. Gabe sat on the sofa with Mia curled on his lap, her head on his shoulder, clutching the teddy bear with its now slightly lopsided eyes. Alex sat beside him, absorbed in a game on Gabe’s mobile. Emma, headphones on, wore a faraway expression. Quinn guessed she was listening to her music. To a stranger, the tableau might have looked peaceful, almost domestic, but Quinn knew better. They were all taut with fear, each processing the situation in their own way.

A wave of guilt washed over her. Leaving them, even briefly, had been selfish. Her children came first, and she needed to reassure them, to remind them, and Gabe, that she was here and would not falter.

Gabe patted the cushion beside him, and Quinn sat down, resting her head on his other shoulder. They stayed like that until, sometime later, a knock sounded at the door.