waiting for Constable Sanderson’s arrival, Keira crawled out of the window and shuddered as the deluge of rain poured over her still-wet clothes. As she walked toward town, the awful scenario played through her mind, so clear and so obvious now that she’d seen the missing puzzle piece.
The secret room under the mill had been a meeting place for Emma and Frank. They must have spent dozens of evenings there, safe from the prying eyes of the town and George’s disdain. Emma and Frank’s child would have been conceived there.
Frank probably hadn’t known he was going to be a father. Perhaps Emma herself hadn’t even known on the fateful night when their secret wedding was foiled.
After Emma’s parents accepted the bribe to remove their daughter from town, Emma had given birth hidden somewhere in the country, far away from society. She hoped that Frank would come to find her. But Frank, swayed by his father’s iron will and unaware that he had a child, stayed in Blighty. After the better part of a year spent away from her fiancé, Emma came to the conclusion that fate expected her to take her future into her own hands. She bundled her child into a basket and followed the back roads to Blighty.
Bringing a baby onto the Crispin property while George still reigned was too risky. Instead, Emma had stopped by Polly’s house. She must have intended to leave her child with her best friend while she visited Frank. But Polly didn’t answer the door, and Emma didn’t trust Myrtle enough to reveal her secret.
The mill’s hidden room offered an alternative. To Emma, it must have seemed like the best solution. Somewhere safe to hide her baby until she could reach Frank and bring him to meet his child.
But she never found Frank. She met his father instead, and the result had been far more horrific than anything she could have prepared for. Keira had no idea what words had been exchanged prior to the murder, but she suspected that Emma had revealed the truth. She might have thought George’s iron heart could be softened if he knew he had a grandchild. She’d been wrong.
To George’s mind, Emma had sullied his family’s lineage. He murdered her in retaliation. And his pride had been so strong that he’d accepted a life in prison without breathing a single word about the secret baby.
Keira closed her eyes in grief at the idea of the child perishing alone in the basement. She hoped it had been quick; Blighty’s temperature dropped alarmingly at night, and it was probable Emma’s baby had not survived until morning.
Emma’s family could have told the police about the child, but they had never been found. Depending on how remote their new home was, they might not have even known their daughter was dead.
Even when Frank hung himself in the mill—directly over the room where he’d shared so much time with Emma—the secret trapdoor had not been found. And Emma was still chained to Blighty cemetery, knowing that her child’s remains went unrecovered.
Keira shook herself out of the unpleasant thoughts as she reached the main road. Drawing attention to herself would be unwise. Even if Dane wasn’t still hunting for her, she didn’t want to bump into the constable if he responded to her call that night. She switched the flashlight off and waited for her eyes to adjust to the night. Indistinct shapes rose from the gloom as she moved alongside the road, keeping near to the woods so she could vanish into them if she heard or saw anyone coming. The only way she could be caught was through ambush.
She prayed Mason and Zoe had made it back to town okay. Her phone’s battery had died as she’d finished her call to Sanderson. She only hoped that they weren’t still on Dane’s property.
They’d better not be; I kept Dane away for nearly an hour. She rubbed strands of wet hair out of her face and picked up her pace despite the aching ankle. They might be waiting at the fountain, or even at my cottage.
She didn’t know what the time was, but her gnawing exhaustion suggested somewhere around three in the morning. Eventually, the empty fields were swapped out for houses. Then the houses became shops, and she was back on Blighty’s main road. She still kept to the shadows, even though the streets were empty.
Keira tried not to dwell on her friends’ conspicuous absence. She’d told them to get indoors; they