“What?” I said out loud to Lily. She didn’t act like she’d heard me at all.

“I was young,” her father continued on the tape, “and I was scared, and I let you.”

“But now you’re done? Suddenly, you don’t care if the truth comes out?”

“For God’s sake, it was an accident!”

I managed not to say What was an accident? out loud, but only just.

“You won’t tell anyone what happened,” J.D. was saying now. “You have as much to lose as I do if the truth about that body comes out.”

The mention of the body sent an electric chill down my spine. I told myself that I must have misheard.

“Did you ever even try to love me?” Aunt Olivia asked on the recording, her voice quiet and rawer than I’d ever heard it. “I have been nothing but a good wife to you and a wonderful mother to Lily and John David. Even you have to give me that.”

“You love our children. If I had any doubts whatsoever on that score, I wouldn’t have kept up this charade for as long as I have.”

The admission didn’t seem to calm her. If anything, it had the opposite effect. “That’s all it ever was to you? A charade? When are you going to understand that I’m better for you than she ever was?”

“Say her name.”

“Excuse me?” Aunt Olivia was retreating to form—manners, manners, manners.

“Just once. Say. Her. Name.”

“You’re being ridiculous, John.”

“Liv—”

All of a sudden, their voices were blocked by the sound of a familiar—and very deep—bark. Then there was a series of noises that told me some major tussling was going on in the background, and then I heard John David yelp, “William Faulkner, this was not a part of the mission!” and the recording cut off.

I tried to process what I’d just heard, but the parameters would not compute. “What was that?” I asked Lily. She didn’t even try to form an answer in reply. “He said that she blackmailed him into marrying her.” Repeating that didn’t make it sound any more plausible. “He mentioned . . .”

“A body.” Lily finished my sentence for me.

You have as much to lose as I do if the truth about that body comes out. That statement rang in my ears. Before Ana had shown up, alive and well, it had seemed, if not plausible, at least possible that the body at Falling Springs was hers. I’d already let myself come far too close to jumping to conclusions once.

And yet, I had to ask: “Do you think this has something to do with the Lady of the Lake?”

Lily’s only response was to play a third recording. It was significantly shorter than either of the others.