“You’re something, you know that?”

“You still want me?”

“I still want you. So does Bismarck.”

“Well, if Biz is involved.”

There was no doubt after the kiss that followed, that he meant exactly what he said.

He and Bismarck left a few minutes later, and I went upstairs to pack what I would need for a week.

I decided to swing by my parents’ house before I drove to Teo’s. I wanted to check on them again. They were strong, but they had been through too much not to be marked by it. I hadn’t moved back to Seabank just for the girls and Teo. I’d moved back to be close to them and to provide all the comfort I could.

I had other family here, too. One of Sean Riley’s brothers lived in town, and I was working up my courage to go and see him. Once the shock died down, if he thought it was a good idea, I would ask him to break the news to his parents about me. They might even be glad to have me nearby.

I had cleared Wendy’s clothes out of the closet, and Mom had carried them away. I didn’t know if everything was in storage or a landfill. She had to deal with losing Wendy one step at a time, in her own way.

I realized now that we’d forgotten something important. When the moving crew had carried out the old furniture from the bedroom, I’d rescued Wendy’s scrapbooks from the bottom of her dresser. With the furniture gone, I’d set them on a closet shelf.

Now I reached up and pulled down the photo scrapbook. I wasn’t sure what to do with either, but eventually this should be another decision for my mother to make. There was one thing I had to do, though.

On my new bed I paged through the scrapbook. Baby Wendy, toddler Wendy, preteen Wendy, high school Wendy.

I came to the photo of Wendy holding me as an infant. I slipped it out of the scrapbook and methodically folded and tore it until there was nothing left but dust.

Who was the woman who’d reluctantly given birth to me? Had she been born with evil in her heart? Or at the beginning, had she been eager to please, eager to do the right thing? Had my parents loved her so much that one day, she started to believe she deserved anything she wanted? Had her beauty and talent made manipulation too easy? Had she always been acting when she was kind to others?

If she’d ever felt love, was it still buried deep inside, or had it been extinguished years ago?

There were so many questions that would never be answered, a sister’s questions, a journalist’s questions. But the one answer I did know? I had done exactly what I needed to. Whoever Wendy was, my sister, my mother, my enemy, with any luck, she would never hurt anybody again.

The man I loved was waiting across town. Someday maybe we would find a way to create our own family. I was ready to try.