“Why would that matter?” I asked.
Brenda looked at me then, really looked at me.
“Because Daniel told me six months ago that someone inside Elias’s family was asking questions about Jonathan Wilson’s daughter.”
The garden seemed to fall silent.
Even the fountain felt farther away.
Rebecca’s voice sharpened. “What kind of questions?”
“Where she lived. Whether she used another name. Whether she was engaged. Whether she owned property in San Francisco.” Brenda’s words came faster now, as though she had been holding them back so long they were escaping without permission. “Daniel thought it was corporate gossip at first. Then he realized the person asking wasn’t from work. It was Cynthia.”
My skin went cold.
“That’s impossible,” I said. “Cynthia didn’t know.”
Brenda’s face crumpled with something like regret. “I think she suspected before Elias did.”
Rebecca stepped closer. “How?”
Brenda shook her head. “I don’t know. But Daniel said she had a photograph.”
