Sadie found the second photograph by accident.

At least she told herself it was an accident.

Julian had asked her to inventory several boxes from Evelyn Corsini's old study before they were moved into storage.

Sadie was halfway through a stack of books when something slipped from an old copy of The Great Gatsby.

A photograph.

Half of one.

The right side had been torn away.

Three people remained.

Julian.

Daniel.

And a beautiful dark-haired woman with Julian's eyes.

On the back, someone had written:

Revere Beach — August 14, 2003.

Sadie heard footsteps.

Julian entered.

He saw the photograph.

And stopped.

For the first time since Sadie had met him, Julian Corsini looked genuinely shaken.

"Who's the woman?"

He didn't answer.

"Julian."

"My sister."

Sadie looked down again.

"Claire?"

"Claire Bennett now."

Sadie knew the name.

Claire Bennett chaired charity boards, appeared in society photographs, and lived in a Beacon Hill townhouse worth more than Sadie's lifetime earnings.

"What was she doing with Daniel?"

Julian took the photograph.

His thumb covered Daniel's face.

"They knew each other."

Sadie laughed once.

"That's becoming your favorite useless answer."

"Sadie."

"No. My uncle disappears, your family keeps souvenirs connected to him for twenty-three years, your sister is in secret photographs with him, and somebody is breaking into rooms to steal them. I think we're past 'they knew each other.'"

Julian looked at her.

"They were in love."

Sadie stopped breathing for a second.

"What?"

"Claire was twenty. Daniel was twenty-four."

"And you?"

"Twenty-three."

"Did you know?"

"Eventually."

"And you hated it."

Julian didn't answer.

That was answer enough.

Sadie's stomach tightened.

"Did you threaten him?"

"Yes."

The honesty caught her off guard.

"Did you hurt him?"

Julian's face hardened.

"Once."

"What does that mean?"

"It means exactly what you think."

Sadie backed away.

Julian watched her do it.

Something in his expression changed.

Not anger.

Regret.

Before either spoke again, Maggie called from downstairs.

Lunch was ready.

Sadie didn't eat.

For the rest of the afternoon, she couldn't stop thinking about Daniel.

Not Daniel the irresponsible uncle.

Daniel in love.

Daniel working for the Corsinis.

Daniel being threatened by Julian.

That evening she returned to her apartment above the garage.

The door was locked.

Nothing looked wrong.

Sadie stepped inside.

Then stopped.

Her bedroom light was on.

She was certain she'd turned it off.

"Hello?"

Silence.

Her pulse accelerated.

She grabbed the nearest weapon available.

A ceramic umbrella stand.

It was absurdly heavy.

She carried it down the short hallway.

Nobody.

The bedroom was empty.

Then she saw the bed.

An old train ticket lay in the center of the comforter.

Boston to Providence.

August 16, 2003.

The missing ticket.

Underneath it was a folded sheet of paper.

Sadie opened it.

Three words.

STOP ASKING QUESTIONS.

The umbrella stand slipped from her fingers and crashed onto the floor.

Within ninety seconds, Julian was inside the apartment.

Martin arrived behind him with two security officers.

Julian took one look at Sadie's face.

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Did you touch anything?"

"The note."

"Anything else?"

"No."

Julian's attention moved to the ticket.

His expression became frighteningly calm.

"Martin."

"I'm on it."

"Lock the estate down."

Sadie turned.

"Absolutely not."

Julian looked at her.

"What?"

"You're not locking me inside a mafia mansion with whoever broke into my bedroom."

"I'm not locking you in. I'm locking everyone else out."

"That distinction is not comforting."

"You'll sleep in the main house."

"No."

"Sadie."

"I have a lock."

"Someone opened it."

"I'll get another lock."

"They'll open that one too."

She glared at him.

He stepped closer.

His voice dropped.

"Someone entered your home because of something that happened to your uncle twenty-three years ago. You are not sleeping here tonight."

She hated that he was right.

She hated even more that part of her felt safer when he said it.

Sadie folded her arms.

"Fine. One night."

Julian glanced at Martin.

"Prepare the east guest room."

"I'm not a hostage."

"No."

"Because this is starting to feel very—"

"You talk too much to be a hostage."

Sadie's mouth fell open.

Martin suddenly became extremely interested in the wall.

Hours later, Sadie couldn't sleep.

She wandered downstairs.

A record sat beside the turntable.

Different from the one she'd played before.

Her favorite Etta James album.

Sadie stared at it.

Julian appeared behind her.

"You left this here."

"Maybe."

"Why?"

He poured himself a drink.

"I've discovered the security footage is less tedious than expected."

She stared at him.

"That was almost a joke."

"Don't tell anyone."

Despite herself, she laughed.

For one strange second, the house didn't feel dangerous.

Then Martin entered carrying a tablet.

His face erased the moment.

"We found something."

He showed them a fragment of recovered video from the night the recipe card disappeared.

2:13 a.m.

A woman emerged from Evelyn's room.

Dark hair.

Elegant posture.

Sadie recognized her immediately from the photograph.

Claire Corsini Bennett.

Julian's sister.