She saw it in his face. He was about to deliver some devastating news.

“Laura’s maiden name was Hughes. She was the daughter of Brad and Kathy Hughes of Chicago. She had two daughters.”

Dulcie grabbed the porch railing as the world tilted crazily and suddenly she could no longer get enough oxygen into her lungs.

Russell stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. He could feel her shock, her pain, her disbelief in the rigid muscles of her body.

He’d feared what this would do to her, finding out that the murdered woman who’d lived in this house had been her mother and that the little girl who had died was her sister.

Dulcie was strong, stronger than any woman he’d ever met, but was she strong enough to get past this?

Her words came out a whisper. “The oldest daughter? What was her name?”

“Angel Lee.”

“And the youngest?”

He swallowed. “Dulcie Ann.”

“I don’t understand.”

“John Atkinson told me that Laura had gotten in a lot of trouble when she was young. She’d run away and married Darrell Beaumont against your grandparents’ wishes. They disowned her.”

He felt Dulcie stiffen, waited a moment, and continued. “Laura had two children right away, one right after the other. When Darrell was killed in a motorcycle accident, Laura contacted your parents for help. She was living here in the old Beaumont place, Darrell’s family was helping out, but Laura was lonely and lost. Are you sure you want to hear this?”

She nodded, but didn’t turn around.

“Your grandparents came to Whitehorse. Laura apparently thought they’d come to take her back to Chicago but when she realized it would be on their terms, she turned them down. They saw the way she was living here and insisted on taking you back with them since you were the youngest, only three at the time. They apparently raised you as their own.”

Dulcie shook her head and stepped out of his arms to go to the end of the porch. “I can’t believe they would do that.”

“This is only Laura’s side of the story through someone else. Angel refused to go with them. She said she had to stay and take care of her mother.” He knew she deserved to be angry, but said, “I’m sure your grandparents didn’t know how to tell you after everything that happened.”

She turned. Her face was still pale, but her eyes were fired with heat. “Yes, how could they explain what they’d done? Taking me, leaving behind my sister to...” She waved an arm through the air. “And then not telling me all those years, letting me walk into this minefield?”

“Parents make mistakes.”

“Don’t even try to defend them.”