Page 48 of Never Been Gargoyled
My stomach clenched. “Yes, of course. Did you find something?”
“I did some digging into the town records, talked to some of the older folks around here. There's something you should know about Helga's past.”
I sank onto the front steps, gripping the phone tighter. “What kind of something?”
“About forty-nine years ago, Helga left town for about six months. Told everyone she was going to help care for a sick sister.”
Forty-nine years ago. Rebecca was forty-eight now, which would make the timeline match perfectly if she'd been born then.
“A sick sister,” I repeated slowly.
“That's what she said. But here's the thing, Ms. Osborne. I've been sheriff here for most of my adult life, and I knew Helga well. She never mentioned any living relatives except for your father and you. In fact, I could swear she once said she had no siblings other than your dad’s brother.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“I'm saying it was unusual for her to suddenly have a sibling who needed help.” He paused.
My heart sank into my shoes. “Then the sibling story was a lie.”
“Seems that way. And when she came back six months later, she was different. Quieter. She kept to herself more than usual, though Helga was already pretty private.”
“Did anyone ask her about it?”
“Small towns, you know. People talk, but they also respect privacy when someone makes it clear they don't want to discuss something. From what I heard, Helga made that very clear.”
I closed my eyes, trying to process what this meant. If Helga had disappeared for six months and lied about why, and Rebecca was born forty-eight years ago…
“Sheriff, is there any chance you could find out exactly when Helga left town and when she came back?”
“I can try. It might take a few days to track anyone who might know, but I'll see what I can do.”
“Thank you. This is really helpful.”
“Hope it works out for you, Ms. Osborne. Helga was a good woman, and she loved that old place. I think she'd want it to go to someone who'd take care of it.”
“I appreciate that.”
After I hung up, I sat on the steps staring at the phone. The evidence was mounting, and none of it was in my favor. Rebecca hadn't been lying about her age or her connection to Helga. The timeline matched quite well.
“Everything alright?”
I looked up to find Feydin standing at the bottom of the steps, his bandaged hand tucked carefully against his side. The concerned expression on his face made my throat ache.
“That was the sheriff,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “He found some information about Helga.”
Feydin climbed the steps and settled beside me, his wing wrapping around my back in a comforting way. “What kind of information?”
I told him about the phone call, watching his expression grow more serious with each detail. When I finished, he was quiet for a long moment.
“The timeline matches,” he said finally.
“It does.” I picked at a loose thread on my jeans. “I’m beginning to believe she really is Helga's daughter.”
“That doesn't mean she has a stronger claim to the estate than you do.”
“Doesn't it?” I looked at him. “A biological child would have stronger grounds to inherit. I'm just some great-niece.”
“You're not just anything.” His voice came out fierce. “Helga chose you. She could have left the estate to Rebecca if she'd wanted to.”
