Page 97 of Lorenzo

For a moment, the only sound in the room is her uneven breathing and softening sobs.

I look at Lorenzo.

The sharp edges I am used to seeing in him are gone. He does not reach for her or try to soften what he said with anything else. He simply lets the words do their job.

Elaine finally nods, though I am not sure she believes him yet.

“Daniel used to say something similar,” she whispers. “That we couldn't spend our lives apologizing for what we couldn't give her.”

Lorenzo leans back slightly. “He was right.”

She closes her eyes and draws in a slow breath.

“I should have known something was wrong when she asked for those papers again.”

“You knew she was hurting,” I say. “You didn't know what she intended to do.”

Elaine looks at me. “What happens if you find her?”

“We find out exactly what happened to Genevieve,” I tell her.

Her face crumples again at the name, but she nods.

“The post office box,” I say gently. “Can you look for it?”

“Yes.”

She rises more carefully this time, and pauses again.

“I lied before. I do have copies,” she says, her voice shaking. “But this is worse than I thought. Or rather, it's exactly what I was afraid of.”

“We would really appreciate those copies,” I say.

Elaine leaves the room and walks down the hallway.

The moment she is out of earshot, Lorenzo turns to me. “She knew.”

“She knew enough to be afraid.”

“She let Rachel watch Genevieve for months. Obsess over her, stalk her.”

“Yeah, but I think she was too afraid to admit what Rachel was capable of.”

“That does not absolve her.”

“I didn’t say it did.”

His jaw clenches. “It could've made the difference.”

The only thing I can think to say is, “Yeah.”

Elaine returns carrying a small metal box, which she sets on the coffee table.

She opens it, and inside are envelopes, folded documents, old photographs, and a small notebook secured with an elastic band.

I reach for the notebook.

“What is this?”