“What did she tell him?”
“That you weren’t Ella Morris. That you were Eleanor Wilson.” Brenda’s voice dropped. “And then she said something strange.”
Rebecca’s pen paused.
“She said, ‘If the girl knows, find the old file before Jonathan does.’”
My father went very still.
“The old file,” he said.
“You know what that means?” I asked him.
He did not answer immediately.
That frightened me more than if he had.
Rebecca turned toward him. “Jonathan?”
My father looked suddenly older beneath the garden lights.
“Not here,” he said.
Brenda shook her head. “There’s more.”
My father’s eyes moved back to her.
“Cynthia told Elias to keep you emotional. To make you call him. She said if he could get you to meet alone, he should apologize, cry, say whatever he needed. But mostly, he had to find out how much you recorded.”
I let out a slow breath.
