Page 15 of Echoes at Driftwood Cottage

“Well, if we’re being honest, her parents believed that I’d killed her.”

“They did not.”

“Yeah, they did. Lyssa disappearing without a trace was bad enough. But her parents thinking I’d killed her might’ve been worse.”

“So these websleuths are good?”

“They got an outcome and a result for me that worked. I’d recommend them any day, any time.”

“I don’t think I have the money for that kind of private investigation,” Rowan pointed out when they reached the wall.

“For me, they waived the fee and returned my check. I’m still not sure why they did it. But I can talk to them about their fee.”

“We,” Rowan corrected. “We’ll talk to them then decide if we need their help. If I can find my birth certificate, maybe it will clear things up and we won’t need outside help from anyone.”

“You don’t really believe that do you?”

She shook her head. “But like you said. We have to start somewhere.”

Daniel drove Rowan back to her house, both of them lost in thought.

Rowan couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about the whole situation. She had lived her entire life thinking she was an only child, but now there was a four-year-old girl buried with her name on a gravestone. Knowing her mother’s lengthy list of problems firsthand as only Rowan could, she wondered if Gwynn had kept a much darker secret.

As soon as Daniel pulled into the driveway, Rowan twisted in her seat to face him. “Could I be a twin?” she heard herself ask aloud.

Daniel took the question like a professor working his way through a puzzling hypothesis. Hand on chin, he thought it over for several minutes. “Was your father ever in the picture, ever involved in your life?”

“No, not that I remember. The only man I remember is my grandfather.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions then. We’ll cover all the bases first.”

“Like find my birth certificate,” Rowan said, hopping out of the Subaru. She ran up to the front door, turning the key, and went straight to the bedroom. Kneeling down, she pulled out a box from under her bed, a box she’d put there only hours earlier.

Daniel watched from the doorway as she started rummaging through the contents. After a few minutes of searching through old papers and stuff from school, she found her birth certificate. She slumped down on the bed to scan every line. Her heart sank. Everything seemed to be in order. Her birthdate checked out, single birth by all accounts. Gwynn Eaton was listed as her mother. Some guy named Atticus Eaton was listed as her father. Her place of birth San Francisco. Nothing odd about any of it.

He sat down next to her. “Do you see anything that stands out? Anything weird about it?"

Rowan shook her head. “No. Everything seems to be in order. See for yourself.”

Daniel took the document, reading it, line by line. “Have you ever considered getting in touch with this Atticus Eaton?”

“Why? He’s probably another heroin addict. He might even be dead by now.”

He put a comforting arm around her. “Okay, you can cross the twin theory off the list. One down. I promise you, though, we’ll get to the bottom of it.”

Feeling defeated, she rested her head on his shoulder. “I don't know what to do now.”

“We can still talk to Brogan and Lucien. They have a website. I could go on there tonight and send them an email explaining the situation, ask if they have time to help.”

Her head popped up. “Before you do that, I just thought of something. I have a vague memory of Gran mentioning before she died that she kept my birth certificate in a safe deposit box at the bank.” She flicked her finger over the one she’d just found. “What if this piece of paper is a fake?”

“You’d have to wait until Monday to get into the bank and find out. Do you have the key for it?”

Rowan grimaced. “I’m pretty sure she kept the key in the nightstand.”

“Do really think your mother and grandparents are that devious? Do you really feel they’d keep that kind of secret from you?”

“I don’t know what to think. But my imagination is revving up in overdrive. I’m beginning to conjure up all kinds of scenarios.”

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