Page 96 of The Clifftop Cottage

Red.

Her gaze lifted slowly to the statue.

Was this the thread?

She returned to the page.

Charles William Grigor, later advocate for Civil Evidence Reform. Patron of the Caileanbray Women’s Infirmary.

She clicked.

Maternal care. Midwifery. Preservation of traditional botanical remedies native to the northern coastlands.

Botanical remedies?

Erica could feel something spread over her.

The mother unlisted, known as a healer.

“The Red.”

And him. This man, Charles William Grigor, years later pushing for evidence.

Erica stepped back.

Something about it didn’t fit the story she’d been told.

A cold rush shot through her, followed by a flash of heat that made her breath catch. Something was here. Not certainty, but direction.

Like a rope dangling in front of her, waiting to be grasped.

She didn’t hesitate.

Erica turned on her heel and ran across the street, into her car, her boots slipping slightly on wet pavement. The ignition roared to life. She was already moving before her seatbelt clicked shut.

She didn’t know exactly what she was chasing. Only that she was close.

So close.

The museum would have more. It had to. There had to be something – records, letters, anything.

Her hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. Her breath fogged the inside of the windscreen.

And then, a thought came to her. She reached for her phone. Gabriel. She could tell him, she wanted to. But stopped herself.

She swallowed.

Things between them were too uncertain for that.

But she needed to tell someone before she lost the thread.

32

Leah jumped at the sudden knock.

Thump.

Thump.