Lost in Time(44)

THIRTY


Adeline stared into Elliott’s eyes as her hand moved down to the small pocket in her dress. Her fingers were wrapping around the mobile phone when Elliott smiled. “There’s no service down here.” He studied her. “Which is good. We need to talk, and we don’t want anyone who can hack a mobile phone to be listening.”

He waited.

“Do you know anyone like that?”

Adeline swallowed. “I want to leave.”

Elliott smiled, a silent denial of her request.

A single thought ran through her mind: if she could keep him talking, that would buy her time, maybe enough time for Daniele to come looking for her.

Elliott’s tone was almost casual when he spoke. “You’re making a habit of this, aren’t you, my dear?”

“Habit of what?”

“Sneaking around people’s houses. Looking for their secrets.”

Adeline felt herself begin to shake.

“Constance called me. She’s worried about you.”

“She’s…”

“Not the killer.”

“She has a room. With pictures. From the past.”

“Yes.”

“You knew?”

“I’ve seen it.”

“Who are they?”

“People from Connie’s past. People she’s trying to track down.”

“Why?”

“It’s private. And it’s not what you think it is.”

Elliott motioned to the screen, to the video where Daniele was walking down the street. At the end of the loop, it paused on a frame where she was looking up at the camera.

“It’s not Connie’s secret that should concern you. It’s Daniele’s.”

“What secret is that?”

“That’s the question. She’s hiding things, Adeline. Her life doesn’t add up.”

Elliott pointed at the still image from the video. “She was there the night Charlie died.” He raised a finger. “And not once in my life has she told me that. Now ask yourself why? Why would she do that? She didn’t even know him. Sure, she knew he was having… issues, but in person, she had never even met him. Why was she there?”

Elliott waited. When Adeline said nothing, he stepped toward her. “She’s using you, Adeline.”

“She’s not.”

“She knows Connie’s secret.”

A chill ran through Adeline. “She does?”

“Of course. All of us do. Go ahead—when you get home, ask her. See if she denies it. See if she tells you. She won’t. For one reason.”

“Which is?”

“The same reason she sent you to Connie’s house.”

Adeline waited, staring at Elliott, knowing what came next.

“I told you. She’s using you, Adeline. She wants you to think it’s Connie because if you do, you won’t investigate her. But you’re the only person who really can. You’re living in her house. You have access none of us do. Why do you think that is? Why do you think you’re in that house?” Elliott paused, a smile forming on his lips. “Your father. He chose for you to live with Daniele for a very good reason, and it’s not the one you think. Do you know what it is?”

“Let’s assume I don’t.”

“I think you do. I think you want to find your father’s killer, Adeline, more than anything. So do I. Daniele doesn’t want that killer to be found—for one reason, and you’re smart enough to know what that reason is.”

*

In the car on the way home from the service, Adeline sat in the front seat, staring out the passenger window, struggling with whether to believe Elliott.

From the back seat, Daniele called to Adeline, “You disappeared for a while.”

“I needed to be alone.”

“You went to the basement?”

“Yes.”

“See anything interesting?”

To Adeline, the question was a fork in the road. One with consequences.

Tell the truth and trust Daniele. Or lie.

Adeline tried to make her voice even. “No.”

Daniele said nothing.

When Adeline turned to look back, the older woman was staring at her.

“Did you ever meet Elliott’s son, Charlie?” Adeline asked.

Daniele didn’t flinch. “No.”

Adeline learned something then. Daniele was a good liar.

*

That night, Adeline tossed and turned and tried to grab hold of sleep, but it was like a fish in a stream slipping through her fingers.

Her mind wandered. She thought about what she had found in the basement of Elliott’s house and in the spare bedroom in Constance’s home. They had secrets. Daniele did too. Everyone around her seemed to have secrets. Were those secrets the key to saving her father? Or were they simply part of the transition to adulthood—realizing that the world wasn’t what it seemed before, that everyone was hiding something, that every adult, on some level, wasn’t who they wanted children to think they were?

She pulled the blanket aside, got on top of it and stared at it. Her mother had created this quilt. In fact, it had been one of her last acts before her death. It was a photomosaic that included pictures of Adeline’s mother, father, her, and her brother. Together, the pictures joined to form a family photo taken at the beach years ago, when Ryan was barely walking. Every time Adeline looked at the quilt, it reminded her of what she had lost. And it steeled her to get her father back.