Page 65 of Someone Knows

“That’s between me and the Lord.”

“Then why is it that I have to tell my sins toyou?”

A few people wander into the back of the room. I recognize one as Mom’s neighbor. “Excuse me. I should greet people.”

Father Preston reaches out, rests a hand on my arm, stopping me. “There is no sin that can’t be forgiven when you’re truly ready to repent, Elizabeth.”

I frown and shake my head. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

The next few hours are a blur. A sea of peoplecome and go—Mom really did need the double room. People from church, neighbors . . . It seems like most of the town is here at some point. The polite smile glued on my face is starting to hurt, so I’m grateful when someone walks in that I don’t have to pretend for. Ivy. And she’s alone. I excuse myself from yet another stranger telling me what a wonderful woman my mother was and head straight for my old best friend.

Ivy smiles sadly. “I’m sorry about your mom, Elizabeth.”

“Thanks.” I nod toward the door leading to the hall. “Do you think we can talk?”

“Sure.”

Kenny Chapman and a dowdy woman in a black suit are manning the front entrance, opening the door for people as they come and go. So I steer us in the opposite direction, to the ladies’ room. Luckily, it’s empty.

“How are you holding up?” Ivy asks.

“Are we talking about my mother dying or the chapters?”

“Both.”

“My mother dying, I’ll get through. The other thing, I’m not so sure . . .” I shake my head. “It’s been difficult.”

“So you’ve received more?”

I nod. “Five chapters so far.”

“And everything in them is accurate?”

“Down to room number 212.”

The color drains from Ivy’s face. “Oh my God. Who can it be and what do they want?”

Her reaction makes me 99.9 percent sure she isn’t behind this. But I need more than that. I need to be absolutely certain. I lean in, lock eyes with her. “Is it you, Ivy? I need to know.”

“What?” Her face twists. “Of course not. Why do you keep asking me that? Why the hell would I dredge up the past? I have as much to lose as you, if not more. My husband thinks I’m a good person.” She pauses for a few seconds, her mouth opening and shutting, then opening and shutting again, as if she has something to say but isn’t sureif she should.

“What?” I urge. “Tell me.”

Ivy meets my eyes, then takes a big breath in and out.

“Before I tell you something, I need to know if you believe I’m not the one doing this to you, not haunting you by sending the chapters.”

We stare each other down for a few moments. She was and still is the best friend I’ve ever had. Twenty years may have gone by, but I’m almost certain she’s telling the truth. I nod. “I believe you.”

She lets out another big breath. “Okay. Good.”

“Now what do you need to tell me?”

Ivy swallows and looks down. “I was always a little jealous of you.”

“Jealous of me? For what?”

“You were so pretty and smart, and I was just so . . . ordinary.”

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