My Annette,
It was so comforting to hear news from Gottfried. It feels like ages since I’ve been back there, so long that I can’t believe the world you described was once my life. I’ve been spending almost all of my time traveling in France, searching for the lost girl.
Half of the places I’ve been to were dead ends, but I think I’ve finally found something that might put us in the right direction. I found it on my last trip to Europe, though I was certain someone was following me. Robert thinks I’m insane from jet lag. He can’t imagine how we’re on anyone’s radar, and I suppose he’s right. We’ve been living out west for so long that even the idea of other Monitors has become a part of our distant past….Regardless, it serves as a reminder that we have to be careful. Anyway, I probably shouldn’t write any more here. You understand.
It’s been difficult having to keep it from Renée; I hate lying to her….I don’t think she suspects anything yet, though every time I look at her I have to suppress the urge to tell her everything about who she is and what we’re doing. Once it’s safe, I’ll tell her everything.
Are you still planning to visit us later this month? The day you said you’d arrive is Renée’s sixteenth birthday, and although I can’t promise she’ll remember you from the last time you visited, I’m sure you’d be a welcome surprise. We were thinking we could pick you up and go to that quaint coffee shop we went to the last time you were here. The sandwiches are the best in northern California, and it’s very private. It’s also just outside the redwood forest, which is beautiful this time of year.
Until then,
Lydia
Lydia. The name dripped down the page in a long watery streak, and I realized I was crying.
Sitting down on the edge of Miss LaBarge’s bed, I tried to read the letter again, but couldn’t, knowing that I was looking at my mother’s handwriting. She had written these words. I could see the smudges in the margins from her palm. It was almost like she was still alive, speaking to me, except that the same phrases kept standing out. Traveling. Searching for the lost girl. California. My birthday. The redwood forest. This letter was probably the last one my mother sent before she was killed.
How come I hadn’t even realized what was going on? We lived in the same house for sixteen years. We ate all of our meals together, we used the same computer, the same telephone. How could I not have even noticed that my mom had been traveling all over the world, looking for something? How could I not have known?
“Renée?” my grandfather called out.
“I—I found something.”
Bounding in from the other room, my grandfather took the letter from me, muttering to himself as he read.
“What is it?” I asked, staring at the letter as if it were a strange relic.
The creases on my grandfather’s face tightened. “I don’t know yet.”
I began pacing. I thought my parents had been killed by an Undead they were hunting; that they’d died in the line of duty. But was it true? It seemed like a strange coincidence that my parents had been killed by an Undead right after my mother sent this letter. Right after they discovered something seemingly important. “Their deaths weren’t just Monitor casualties, were they?” I said, the words coming out wobbly. “My mom was looking for a lost girl. She thought someone had been following her.”
My grandfather held up a hand to silence me while he thought. Sticking out from beneath Miss LaBarge’s bed was a rusty handle. I pushed it out with my foot, only to discover that it was the handle of a shovel.
“I wouldn’t read too much into this, Renée,” my grandfather said. “Your parents were traveling a lot for Monitor-related activities. Seeking out the Undead, Monitoring them. This is mostly likely referring to a similar episode that they were consulting with Annette LaBarge about.”
“But she said she was looking for a lost girl, not an Undead girl—”
My grandfather cut me off. “Monitors often use vague words to communicate to each other, in case their correspondence is intercepted. Just like Annette protected her belongings underground. It’s a precaution.”
“But they were killed immediately after. And now Miss LaBarge is dead. What if she was out at Lake Erie looking for the same thing—”
“That your mother was searching for? No.” He shook his head. “Lydia was killed by an Undead while performing her duty. She died honorably.”
“I didn’t mean that—”
“My daughter wasn’t murdered,” he said, as if it were painful to even say the word daughter.
“But Miss LaBarge hid the letter behind a photograph—”
My grandfather spoke over me. “Your parents were Monitors. Everything about their jobs was a secret, so it doesn’t strike me as strange for your mother to have written a secretive letter.”
He must have seen me shrink away from him, because he immediately composed himself. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“Can I keep it?” I asked. “The letter. I just want to have something she wrote.”
My grandfather hesitated, and then folded the note. “Of course.”
“Thanks,” I said softly. As I watched my grandfather collect the clippings from Miss LaBarge’s office, I wondered if my parents had ever gotten the chance to tell her what they had discovered, and if so, what it was. But even if they had managed to talk, I feared that the secret of my parents’ discovery had died along with my favorite teacher.