Page 29 of Black Hearts

Alex unstacked them all, and we slowly and methodically went through everything they contained. Old photo albums, documents, newspaper clippings my parents had kept for whatever reason… everything.

My hope diminished with each photo that failed to offer up any answers. There were plenty of them, but none were taken in front of anyone else’s house but our own, save for a few taken in France when my parents rented a chateau there for a few weeks during the summer. I was just a baby at the time.

“I was wrong,” I mumbled, throwing another album aside. “There’s nothing.”

I felt dumb for being so ambitious about this plan. Earlier, I’d been so certain that I’d find something in this house, but now I realized I’d just been deluding myself with false hope. If it was that good of an idea, I probably would’ve thought of it long before now.

“Don’t give up yet,” Alex said kindly, handing me another album. “You know I believe in you. Anything here could trigger a memory.”

I dejectedly leafed through the album. This one contained various family photos, and a few taken at a birthday party Mom threw for me when I was five. I barely remembered the event at all, but now that I was viewing the photos, I remembered the big pink-frosted cake she baked for me. I also remembered how she’d invited all our neighbors and their kids as well as my friends from kindergarten.

I looked at one of the photos of her watching me blow out the candles on the cake, and a sharp twinge of sadness pinched at my insides. My poor mom. Her life had been steeped in disaster and heartbreak from the day she married my father, not knowing what kind of monster he was until it was far too late.

Without him, she would’ve been happy. She would’ve never started drinking. She’d still be alive today.

But I might not be.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and put the photo down. I picked up another one which showed some of our neighbors at the party, stuffing cake into their mouths and posing for the camera.

A light bulb seemed to switch on in my head.

“Alex,” I said.

He looked up. “Hm?”

“Last time I was here, one of our neighbors came over to tell me that he had some old photos of my parents at parties. Maybe he has some pictures that would help us.”

“Where exactly does he live? We’d have to sneak over and break in. Can’t be seen.”

“Yes, I know. He has a lot of houses, but he’s usually here, right up the road at—”

I paused midsentence. Things in my mind were suddenly whirling, my thoughts rearranging themselves and falling into place with solid clicks.

“Celeste?” Two concerned lines appeared between Alex’s brows.

“Oh my god,” I whispered. “Bill.”

“What?”

“His name is Bill Francis,” I said, my heart racing a mile a minute. “I just realized… I think he could be William.”

“Circle William?” Alex said, eyes widening.

“Yes.” I could’ve kicked myself for not making this connection earlier. “He was really good friends with my father, and after he died, he was always checking up on us, coming round to help with the garden and stuff like that. I thought he had a crush on my mother, and that’s why he wanted to keep an eye on us and make sure we were okay. I always wondered why she never liked him back, because he was so nice. But maybe she knew what he really was. Maybe she knew he was just watching us.”

“Hm. Bill is a nickname for William. We didn’t think that was actually his real name when we got it, but hell, we don’t know for sure. It could be.”

“Uh-huh.” I nodded emphatically. “And his dog… he has a golden Labrador named Luna. When I started to remember the mansion ballroom the other night, I remembered there was a little golden Labrador puppy everyone called Lulu. Some of the kids were playing with her. And when Bill was here a few months ago, he said she’s around sixteen now. That lines up with the timing. I was in that ballroom about fifteen or sixteen years ago. Luna would’ve been a puppy.”

Alex rubbed his jaw. “Shit. So you really think it could be him?”

“I think so. He’s super wealthy. He owns a lot of different houses, and he’s definitely rich enough for one of those houses to be a mansion on an estate. Rich enough to pay people to work there as guards and drivers, too. Enough to keep their mouths shut.” My upper lip curled with disgust.

“But you don’t remember seeing him at the mansion?”

I shook my head. “No. But I barely remember any of the faces there. And if he’s one of the head guys, he might’ve been too busy to come and talk to me on the nights I was there with my father. Or maybe he did, and I just don’t remember.”

I racked my brains, but I came up empty. All I remembered of Bill was that he kept a close eye on me and my mother over the years after my father’s death.

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