Page 20 of The Making of Marnie Jones

She cocked her head. “Mrs. Grant aside, I have no connection to that house.”

“What about your father?”

She laughed. And she laughed some more. “You're serious?” Her tone was incredulous. “The day he had me declared dead so he could cash in the life insurance policy ended whatever relationship we might have had. Do you have any idea how hard it is to come back from the dead?”

“Considering the whole world knew you were back?”

And just like that, the shutters slammed down. Her chin jutted and her mouth thinned.

“Especially when the whole world knows you’re alive.” She wrapped her arms around her body, warding off some unseen chill that suddenly settled between them. Her gaze moved out toward the tree.

He cursed under his breath. She was like a turtle. She’d poked her head out to look around, and like an errant schoolboy, he whacked her over the head. Now she was beating a hasty retreat. Only her solid outer shell showed.

But there’d been moments when they connected. Moments when her guard dropped. Moments where she exposed the soft underbelly of the shell. Grateful as he was for what she gave him, he needed more., Marnie’s circumstances were so divergent from his niece's. Olivia had been raised by a drug-addicted mother who turned tricks when she couldn't get welfare. The woman before him had led a life of privilege with every advantage.

Yet both girls had been lonely. Olivia went through seven schools in eight years, never staying anywhere long enough to make friends. When she went missing, there was no one to interview except Lydia, who took two days to even notice her daughter had vanished.

That familiar ache settled into his chest, and he rubbed his breastbone. He should’ve tried harder to find his sister and niece. He should’ve suspected. In the end, Olivia's disappearance had been what brought him back into contact with Lydia. They kept in touch during Olivia's absence, but they hadn't grown as close as he hoped. Instead, their communications were both stilted and brief. No, no new leads. Yes, she was hanging in there. No, she wasn't using.

Doubt always filled him with that final one, but it’d never been worth the argument. He was the one who called the police every other week, ensuring Olivia was never far from their minds. He contacted the media on Olivia's birthday and the anniversary of her disappearance every year, dragging Lydia out to make pleas on Olivia’s behalf. He’d been Olivia’s advocate.

Who had been Marnie's advocate?

No one, it seemed.

“I have to—”

“I’m sorry—”

They both faltered. He indicated she go first.

“I have to get back to the library. I’m sorry I can’t be of any more assistance, but I have nothing to give, Jake, you ought to see that by now.”

Never had there been a stronger compulsion to reach out and offer physical comfort. Demand reciprocity. Still, he couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Helpless, he watched as she rose and walked back toward the library.

“You’re wrong.” He shouted the words, uncaring of who might hear. He enjoyed a moment of vindication when she stopped. “You need Olivia as much as she needs you. Think about it, okay? That’s all I ask.”

“Thank you for lunch.”

The words were quiet, and he might have imagined them as they carried on the wind.

After a moment, she continued, arms still wrapped around herself.

Chapter nine

WhenMarnieescortedthelast patron from the library and locked the door, she let the fatigue wash over her in a wave. As she still had a few more things to do before she headed home, she fought the overwhelming urge to beg off her duties, go home, and crawl under the covers.

“I’m sorry.”

Loriana’s words brought her out of her reverie. “For what?”

“For pushing you.”

Her boss’s expression was solemn, her gaze empathetic.

“I thought it was sweet you had a suitor.”

“He’s not a suitor, Loriana.”

---