Chapter 1 - The Boy With Mud on His Face
Claire Bennett had chosen the café because nobody from her family went there.
That was the irony.
The terrace belonged to an expensive hotel overlooking a manicured garden. White umbrellas shaded marble tables. Affluent patrons spoke quietly over coffee and champagne. Claire sat alone near the railing, wearing a black dress and the silver jeweled hair clip she had owned for almost twenty years.
She was lifting her coffee when a muddy hand suddenly appeared beside her.
Claire screamed.
A boy stood inches away.
Eight years old, perhaps.
Brown hair plastered to his forehead.
Oversized beige T-shirt smeared with mud.
His face looked exhausted.
Claire jerked so violently that hot coffee splashed from cup onto him.
The boy cried out and fell backward.
“Oh my God!”
Claire rushed down beside him.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She wiped his face with tissues, hands shaking.
The boy did not seem angry.
Only relieved.
Like he had been looking for her.
Then he stared at Claire’s hair.
His fingers slowly reached toward silver jeweled clip.
“She has one just like that too.”
Claire stopped.
“Who?”
The boy smiled faintly.
Then reached into pocket.
His dirty palm opened.
Another silver hair clip lay there.
Same crescent shape.
Same six tiny stones.
Same narrow scratch across one side.
Claire removed her own clip.
Placed them together.
They were not simply similar.
They were a pair.
Claire’s breathing changed.
“She told me you’d recognize it,” the boy whispered.
Claire gripped his shoulders.
“Where is she?”
He did not answer.
Instead he turned.
Pointed toward garden.
Claire followed.
A woman in pristine white suit stood beneath trees.
Eleanor Vale.
Claire’s older sister.
Watching.
The moment their eyes met, Eleanor turned away.
“Wait!”
Claire started after her.
The boy grabbed her hand.
Hard.
“Don’t.”
Claire looked down.
His face had gone pale.
Then he whispered:
“She said you thought she was dead.”
Claire stopped breathing.
“Who?”
Ethan looked toward place where Eleanor vanished.
But before he could answer, a black town car pulled away from curb.
Claire recognized license plate.
It belonged to Eleanor.
And inside rear window—
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someone raised one hand.
A woman wearing the third matching hair clip.
