She shook her head.
“No. I treated the wound after the operation. I know exactly where it was.”
Luca had moved closer.
The moment he saw the woman’s hand, he made a sound that Rachel would remember for the rest of her life.
Not a scream.
Something smaller.
“Mom.”
He pointed.
On the inside of the dead woman’s index finger was a tiny tattoo.
A black crescent moon.
“My mom had that,” Luca whispered.
His legs folded beneath him.
Rachel caught him before he hit the ground.
Gideon turned away.
“Officer,” Rachel said.
The policeman was already reaching for his radio.
Gideon began walking toward the cemetery gate.
“Mr. Shaw,” the officer called. “Stay here.”
“I’m calling my attorney.”
“You can do that from here.”
Gideon stopped.
Slowly, he looked back.
For the first time that morning, his composure was gone.
Luca grabbed Rachel’s sleeve.
“There’s more.”
“What?”
“Mara said if they opened the coffin, we had to go to the garden.”
Rachel remembered the coded word.
GARDEN.
She looked toward the old stone church.
Behind it was a neglected memorial garden that had once belonged to a convent.
“What’s in the garden?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she tell you?”
“She said you would understand the second part.”
Luca reached into his jacket again.
This time he removed a small brass key.
A piece of red thread was tied through the circular handle.
Rachel stared at it.
Their father used to mark spare keys with red thread.
Another childhood habit.
Another message meant only for her.
She looked at Gideon.
He was watching them.
And he was no longer pretending not to be afraid.
Rachel closed her fingers around the key.
“Officer, don’t let him leave.”
Then she took Luca’s hand.
They walked toward the garden.
Behind the church, the cemetery changed.
The carefully trimmed lawns ended at a stone wall covered in ivy. Beyond it stood twisted apple trees, empty flower beds, and a tiny greenhouse that had not been used in decades.
Rachel remembered coming here with Mara after their mother died.
Mara had been fourteen.
Rachel seventeen.
They would sit in the broken greenhouse during storms because nobody ever looked for them there.
Rachel stopped.
The greenhouse.
Of course.
She ran.
The door was chained.
The brass key fit the lock.
Inside, dead vines hung from rusted frames.
Broken glass covered the floor.
A wooden gardening table stood against the back wall.
Nothing else.
Luca looked disappointed.
“There’s nobody here.”
Rachel walked to the table.
Her pulse quickened.
Carved into the wood was a tiny bird.
Mara had carved it when she was fourteen.
Rachel remembered yelling at her for ruining the table.
She pushed the table aside.
Behind it was a narrow wooden door almost completely hidden by ivy and old shelving.
The key opened that too.
Cold air rose from below.
Stone steps descended into darkness.
“Stay here,” Rachel said.
“No.”
“Luca—”
“She saved me.”
Rachel turned.
The boy wiped rainwater from his face.
“I’m going.”
They descended together.
The passage beneath the greenhouse had once connected the convent to the church cellar. Rachel remembered hearing stories about it, although she had never been inside.
Their footsteps echoed through the dark.
Thirty feet ahead, a weak yellow light flickered.
Rachel smelled blood before she saw her sister.
Mara was sitting against the wall beneath an old emergency lamp.
Alive.
Rachel stopped.
Everything inside her shattered at once.
“Mara?”
Her sister opened her eyes.
For several seconds she simply stared.
Then she smiled.
A tired, broken smile.
“Took you long enough.”
Rachel ran to her.
She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around Mara so hard that Mara cried out.
“Sorry.”
Rachel pulled back.
There was dried blood across Mara’s side.
Her left hand was bandaged.
Her face was bruised.
But she was alive.
Actually alive.
Rachel touched her face as though she needed physical proof.
“I buried you in my head a thousand times.”
“I know.”
“I hated you for dying.”
“That seems unfair.”
Rachel laughed and sobbed at the same time.
Then Mara saw Luca.
Her expression changed.
“You did it.”
Luca nodded.
“They opened it.”
Mara shut her eyes.
For a moment she looked relieved.
Then Luca whispered, “It was her.”
Mara opened her eyes again.
“My mom.”
Mara reached for him.
Luca went to her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He collapsed against her shoulder.
Rachel looked away.
She gave them several seconds before asking the question she was afraid to hear answered.
“What happened?”
Mara looked toward the stairs.
“We don’t have much time.”
“Gideon?”
Mara nodded.
“Alicia discovered money disappearing from Harbor Light. Not hundreds. Millions.”