How he always knew when she had skipped lunch.

How, during her first winter at Blackthorn, a new pair of waterproof boots had appeared outside the staff room after hers split.

How he had once said her coffee was too strong.

Exactly the way her father used to say it.

Mara’s voice cracked.

“Dad?”

Samuel Gray closed his eyes.

And Thomas Bell began to cry.

Mara hit him.

Not hard.

Once against the chest.

Then again.

“Seventeen years.”

“Mara—”

“Seventeen years!”

She struck him again.

“You were alive?”

“I had to disappear.”

“My mother died believing you were dead!”

“I know.”

“You know?”

Her voice shattered.

“You were here? Driving cars for these people while she died believing the ocean took you?”

Thomas’s face crumpled.

“I watched the funeral from across the cemetery.”

Mara stared at him.

That was worse.

Far worse.

“You watched?”

“I couldn’t go to her.”

“Why?”

“Because Charles Vale wasn’t the only person trying to kill me.”

Adrian stiffened.

Thomas looked at him.

“Your father pushed me from that cliff. But someone else had paid him to do it.”

Adrian shook his head.

“Who?”

Thomas looked toward Mrs. Finch.

The old woman sat down.

“No,” she whispered.

Mara noticed.

“You know.”

Mrs. Finch began crying.

Thomas nodded.

“She does.”

Mara stepped closer.

“Who?”

Mrs. Finch looked at Thomas.

“Please.”

“Seventeen years is long enough.”

Thomas reached into his jacket.

He removed a small envelope.

“I stayed hidden because I needed proof.”

Adrian laughed incredulously.

“For seventeen years?”

“Yes.”

“You could have gone to the police.”

“Your family owned half the police commission.”

Adrian said nothing.

Thomas continued.

“I changed my name. I watched. I waited. And eventually I came back here.”

“As a chauffeur,” Mara whispered.

“Yes.”

“To find what?”

“The original will.”

Mara shook her head.

“All of this for money?”

Thomas looked hurt.

“No.”

He stepped toward her.

“The will wasn’t about money.”

“What was it about?”

“Read the ring.”

Mara frowned.

“I did.”

“No. The edge.”

She examined it.

Along the rim were tiny engraved letters almost invisible beneath decades of scratches.

She carried it beneath the lamp.

Marcus leaned closer.

Mara read aloud.

“What blood inherits, truth may undo.”

She looked at Thomas.

“What does that mean?”

“Harrison knew something about the Bellamy family that could destroy it.”

“What?”

Thomas looked toward Adrian.

“Open the ring.”

Adrian laughed.

“It doesn’t open.”

Thomas took it.

He pressed the blackthorn emblem.

Nothing happened.

Then he twisted the face counterclockwise.

Click.

The signet lifted.

Inside was a tiny brass key.

Mara stared.

Thomas smiled sadly.

“Your grandmother Isabel designed that hiding place.”

The key fit a small lock beneath Harrison’s portrait.

A hidden compartment opened.

Inside was a leather ledger.

No will.

A ledger.

Thomas removed it.

The first pages contained dates beginning in 1951.

Payments.

Names.

Properties.

Politicians.

Judges.

Police officers.