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Sister Mary Elizabeth was waiting for me when I walked into her office.

“Doctor West, we got your donation. Thank you,” she said.

“I came here to speak with you about Sister Serena,” I said. “You must have heard about her death.”

The sister folded her hands in front of her. “Yes. The detectives already visited us. They said it was…” She hesitated, glancing around before lowering her voice. “Gruesome. Most of the sisters who were here during that time have retired. But…” Her brows furrowed. “There was a boy—he lived in the orphanage back then. He now works on the grounds.”

“He’s here now?”

“Yes. His name is Kurt. And if you need more information, I also got you the addresses of Sister Colette and Sister Beth.”

“Can I talk with him?”

“Come. I’ll take you to meet him.”

I followed her through the quiet halls, the faint scent of candles in the air. We stepped outside into the yard, filled with flowers. A few kids were sitting on the wooden benches with caretakers. They waved when I passed by.

A tall man stood by a bush, shears in hand, his broad frame hunched over as he carefully trimmed the overgrown branches of a crepe myrtle tree, and the purplish pink flowers fell like raindrops.

“Kurt.”

He straightened, his full height now visible, and I almost took a step back. This was someone who could easily lift a man and place him in a coffin.

“Sister,” he greeted. “Who’s this?”

“This is Doctor West,” Sister Mary Elizabeth said. “She wants to ask you a few questions about Sister Serena… if that’s alright with you. She lived here too, back then.”

For a moment, he didn’t move. His grip on the shears tightened before he gave me a reluctant nod.

“Thanks,” I said. My eyes never left him. I was sure he knew something. I just had no idea what he knew.

Sister Mary Elizabeth gave me a reassuring nod before walking away, leaving us alone.

“Wanna sit?”

“How long have you been here?” I asked, sitting down under the tall crepe myrtle tree, my fingers curled around the knife I kept inside my pocket.

Pinkish violet flowers spilled all around us. I took one with a smile. I had always loved them.

“Since I was twelve. I came back.”

“Do you remember Tany? Were you here when she was alive?”

His smile withered, and he stood up.

“Robert Miller,” Kurt whispered, and I jerked back. “He hurt Tany. Sister Mary said you lived here. Who are you?” He blinked. Stared. His eyes went wide. “Yara. Yara?”

“You remember me?” I asked, gaping. That was impossible.

“Tany’s friend. Tany’s pretty friend. I remember everyone.”

“That’s right. It’s me. Do you also remember Tany’s sister?”

“Sister? Sister?”

“Her name’s Patty.”

“Patty. Patty. Key lime pie,” he said with a smile. “I love key lime pie, and she often shared hers with me.”