PROLOGUE

"I'm sorry, Mary. I don't mean to discourage you. There's just nothing to find."

I sip my tea to allow myself time to process what I've just heard. We are meeting at a local teahouse in Boston, one of the very few I've found that is a true English teahouse and not a coffee house that also happens to stock tea.

Sean O'Connell regards me with his typical guarded expression as he waits for my answer. His brilliant blue eyes search me for my emotions but reveal none of his. Perhaps his long career of digging up the secrets others hold makes him fear revealing any of his own. He is forty-eight years old, three years younger than I am, and has worked as a private investigator for twenty of those years. He has experience reading people.

At the moment, however, he is more likely just anticipating my response and bracing himself for the argument to follow. "I can't accept that. I don't accept it."

Sean sighs and lowers his head. The guarded expression is replaced by a resigned and vaguely irritated one. So, I was right the second time.

I can understand his frustration. I retained Sean four months ago to look into the disappearance of my sister, Annie Wilcox. He is eager to take the job until I tell him that she disappeared nearly thirty years ago. When he hears that, he tells me that it's unlikely he'll find anything after so long. He relents when I offer him triple his normal rate. It's an absurd sum of money, but my father leaves me a healthy sum when he dies, and the people who manage that money for me do well enough that I can afford it.

He lifts his hands just above the table and lets them drop softly. "I'm sorry to hear that."

I control my irritation at his tone and say, "Tell me what you have learned."

He does a somewhat poorer job of concealing his irritation. "As I said, I haven't learned anything. I checked phone records and travel records from the buses, airlines, trains, and even ships. I checked online records even though the Internet was barely around at the time."

"I'm sure you worked very hard."

"I appreciate that, but I'm not trying to prove I put effort into this. I'm telling you, there's nothing. I even interviewed the detective who worked the case."

My teacup pauses halfway to my face. "I didn't ask you to do that."

"You didn't ask anything," he says, concealing even less of his irritation. You demanded that I leave no stone unturned. So I didn't. Detective Huxley has been retired for fifteen years, but she remembers your case. She said that she had trouble convincing you that they had done their job and warned me that I would face the same resistance."

I set my teacup down so he won't see the trembling in my hands. "Is your rate insufficient?"

"My rate's fine, Mary." In his frustration, he lapses back into his Irish accent, so fine becomes fine. "I just don't like leading you on."

"I assure you, you're not taking advantage of me. I'm of sound mind. I simply am tired of hearing people say that her disappearance is a mystery that can never be solved."

He taps his finger on the table and purses his lips. I can tell he's uncomfortable. I can also tell that he's hiding something. "What is it, Sean?" I press.

He sighs. He appears to be steeling himself for another argument. "I saw your medical records as well."

I'm glad that I set my teacup down earlier because I flinch, and had I been holding the cup, I would have spilled the hot tea all over my lap. "You what?" I breathe.

My eyes are a soft brown, but they flash dangerously when I'm angry. Sean's chiseled features reflect his discomfiture beneath that gaze. "I didn't read them," he says quickly. "I only… well, you said to leave no stone unturned, so I looked into you as well."

"You think I had something to do with Annie's disappearance?"

"No. And after looking, still no. But I've been hired five times by killers and kidnappers who thought hiring my services would establish their innocence. It happens, and I had to be sure."

"And you're sure now?"

"Yes. But…" he bites his lip, clearly trying to figure out how to say what he has to say next.

I spare him the struggle. "I am of sound mind, Sean. And my… episode… occurred after the case was closed."

When the police conclude their investigation into my sister's disappearance, I suffer a mental breakdown and spend eleven weeks in a mental health facility. I have no recollection of my time there, and I am quite content to leave it that way.

"Yes. As I said, I know you're not guilty, but… well, that's neither here nor there. The point is that I've done the best I can, and I'm sorry. I've not found any answers."

"And I've told you that I can't accept that answer."

"Nevertheless," he replies gently. "This is the conclusion of our business together."

I lean back in my chair and look away, out over the harbor to the ocean beyond. Annie and I used to sit at the top of a small seaside hill and watch the waves crash onto shore. Since my return to Boston five months ago, I haven't visited that hill once, even though I know exactly where it is.

Finally, I say, "I will offer you a bonus of fifty thousand dollars to continue investigating. This is in addition to your current rate."

"Oh, Mary, for the love…" He presses his fingers to his temples and says, "I can't take that. Mary, I'm sorry, but the case is unsolvable. Look… the officers are probably right. She was taken, she was hurt, she was killed. I'm sorry to be blunt; it breaks my heart, but there's nothing for me to find, and I'm not going to take your money to find nothing."

"You will take my money to find something ," I retort. "You will think outside the box and turn up stones you didn't before. You will consider it your mission in life to discover what happened to my sister, and you will charge whatever is necessary to take this case and only this case. Do you understand?"

"I understand, but I still can't take your money."

"Sean, please!" I cry out. "I'm begging you."

He leans back and slumps in his chair. He stares at me with exasperation for a moment, then rubs his temples. "Fine." Again, this is fine. "But keep your bonus. I'm not taking fifty thousand dollars from you for a bum job."

"Your pessimism is quite encouraging," I remark drily.

"Glad to hear it," he replies just as drily. "Will you have the same number in Switzerland, or should I call your employers?"

"I'll call you," I reply. Then I stand and reach for my purse.

"Oh please," he says, "the tea is on me. Then I can say I've done something for you."

I nod. "Thank you."

I grab my coat and start to leave, but he calls after me, "If you're wealthy enough to pay me this money, then why do you work as a governess?"

I turn and smile at him. "I like helping people." Then I leave the café.