y made a list. There wa

y doc

r old room at the Hill family villa, the house now occupied by her stepmother. The thou

at took her from the gritty reality of Queens to

ere gone, replaced by a gaudy, modern sculpture. A wave of grief for her father washed over

breath and ran

eeper, Mrs. Foster, whose eyes widened i

in the doorway, her perfectly made-up face twisting into a sneer w

cold and steady. "I'm here to get my personal

a smirk on his face. "Look what the cat dragged i

a harsh, ugly sound. "We threw

oice rising. "You have no right to destroy them. I

ing the police seemed to work. "Fine," Janis snapped, st

her old room. It was unrecognizable. Her furniture was

she found it: a small metal box co

rs. She had one more question. "Where is

rated sadness. "Oh, poor Eleanor. After your father passed away... she was so heartbr

blow. Her grandmother. The only famil

y felt rehearsed. "Where is she burie

er patience gone. "We had her cremat

in, grabbing Kristy's arm in a bruising grip. "Y

onto the stone walkway. The metal box fell from h

oak door s

r scattered documents-her birth certificate, old photos,

iber of her being. Her grandmother was al

sion hardening into a mask of d

man in a black sedan lowered a camera with a long-focus l

f the house. It seems her stepmother

ve. His voice, when he spoke, was quiet and cold as steel. "Investigate Eleanor

She pulled out her cheap pre-paid phone and searc