They stood still, not saying anything. From the other room came the murmur of voices, stray notes from the piano. As the realization of what was happening settled in on Henry, his shock and terror were replaced by a kind of relief. It almost felt good to think there was someone else in the world who knew their secret. He had never taken one of those mail-in DNA tests but imagined it was not unlike the feeling of discovering you have an unknown relative living in another state or country. Someone was out there. Outrageous but true, there was something comforting about the thought that he and Claudine were no longer shouldering the secret on their own.

“What do we do?” he asked.

“We outplay them,” Claudine said. She had shifted into battle mode.

“How?”

“We don’t do anything. They want to torture us. We don’t let them. We go back out there and carry on with the game. Act like everything is fine. And maybe they’ll grow so frustrated with how unbothered we are that they’ll say or do something to reveal themselves. The hunter will become the hunted. Let’s go back. Every second we aren’t there is suspicious. And it gives Steve more time to move in on Zara. From what I hear, these days he’d be lucky to get a listing in Glenwood Springs. He’s not going to steal this from us.”

Henry laughed to himself. He knew she had thrown in that jab at Steve for his benefit. Here she was still thinking about the sale. Her zealousness never ceased to amaze him. It knew no limits.

“There are now two goals for tonight,” she said. “Sell the house to Zara and find out who brought the statue. Remember, there is no statute of limitations for murder. You could go away for the rest of your life, and they’d put me away, too, for covering it up.”

Claudine touched his face.

“I didn’t let it happen then and I’m not going to let it happen now. When we’re a team, no one can beat us. This ends only one way. Zara with the house, us with the statue.”

“That’s two ways—”

“It’s one scenario, I have the second-to-last number. I’ll steal it from Natalie. I can’t imagine anyone else will want that cheap thing. We can figure out how to destroy it later—along with whoever brought it. Come on.”

She turned and walked toward the living room.

“Everyone back to their seats,” she said, the conductor taking control of her orchestra. “Who has number eight?”

Here they were again. As if twenty years ago had never happened. The past repeating itself. Same plot of land. Same hideous secret. Same desperate attempt to conceal it. And since nothing had apparently changed, Henry figured he might as well have a drink.

Zara