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Chapters (61)
  1. Praise for USA Today bestseller Pamela Crane’s psychological thrillers:
  2. To Talia, for letting Mommy take a million pictures of you for my cover. I know you love the attention.
  3. Author’s Note
  4. The Pittsburg Press
  5. Prologue
  6. Chapter 1
  7. Chapter 2
  8. Chapter 3
  9. Chapter 4
  10. Chapter 5
  11. Chapter 6
  12. Chapter 7
  13. Chapter 8
  14. The Pittsburg Press
  15. Chapter 9
  16. Chapter 10
  17. Chapter 11
  18. Chapter 12
  19. Chapter 13
  20. Chapter 14
  21. Chapter 15
  22. Chapter 16
  23. The Pittsburg Press
  24. Chapter 17
  25. Chapter 18
  26. Chapter 19
  27. Chapter 20
  28. Chapter 21
  29. Chapter 22
  30. The Pittsburg Press
  31. Chapter 23
  32. Chapter 24
  33. Chapter 25
  34. The Pittsburg Press
  35. Chapter 26
  36. Chapter 27
  37. Chapter 28
  38. Chapter 29
  39. The Pittsburg Press
  40. Chapter 30
  41. Chapter 31
  42. Chapter 32
  43. Chapter 33
  44. Chapter 34
  45. Chapter 35
  46. Chapter 36
  47. Chapter 37
  48. Chapter 38
  49. Chapter 39
  50. Chapter 40
  51. Chapter 41
  52. The Pittsburg Press
  53. Chapter 42
  54. Chapter 43
  55. Chapter 44
  56. Chapter 45
  57. Chapter 46
  58. Epilogue
  59. Acknowledgments
  60. About the Author
  61. Enjoy what you read?

“I didn’t think that at the time. I assumed everyone would tell me to help her find her family. Who knows if the dad had a brother or a cousin who could take care of her? But I didn’t want to consider that option. I’m sorry for lying. It was selfish of me to want to give a little girl a better life.”

Oliver rolled his eyes, because he knew a pity party when he was invited to one.

“So the license plate number is gone?”

“I don’t know. I thought I had put it in this nesting doll in case I ever needed it, but it was so long ago. I remember coming up here with Vera a time or two to dig through ancestry records for her school project, but I don’t remember checking for it. Last I saw it was fifteen years ago, when we were moving. God knows where I might have misplaced it over the years.”

Oliver scratched his chin, smearing dirt into his day-old stubble. “Do you think maybe Vera found it?”

“Even if she did, it was just letters and numbers. I highly doubt she could have made any sense of them, or knew what they meant.”

My gaze skimmed across the gaping mouth of the chest, glancing at the relics from Alvera’s past. A flawed hero. In her own way, a dark horse of a woman who had done so much for women’s suffrage, and likely died for it. I picked up the stack of newspaper clippings chronicling her life.

“What’s that?” Oliver asked.

“Alvera’s life and death, summed up in a few pieces of paper.”

“Oh, wow, look at this.” Oliver lifted a loose article from the trunk and read it. “Her work in the women’s rights movement. This one is talking about her fundraising work.” Oliver gently handled it, set it down, and picked up another. “And here’s her marriage announcement in the newspaper. Can you imagine being forced to marry a man twice your age and having to produce his heir?”

I examined a picture of Alvera and Robert, noticing their stiff postures, and the misery etched across both of their faces. “Just because something’s the norm doesn’t make it right.”

“My mom told me that supposedly her personality changed after the baby was born.”

“Isn’t that when she disappeared?”

He nodded solemnly.