But Rowan hadn’t been able to get Foley to admit why she’d visited Poppy the morning she’d died. An ongoing business matter, was all she said. “Was it always under secret cover?” Rowan asked, a thought striking her. “Did you ever go to the Mandarin Oriental?” Foley just cocked her head noncommittally, but Rowan’s mind had whirled, suddenly realizing that Poppy might not have been cheating on James after all. But what had she been doing?
Now Rowan pushed through a door marked 414, a private room that overlooked Manhattan. With Julia still unaccounted for, Natasha had been secretly moved to NYU from Beth Israel. Only the family knew about it; even the press hadn’t gotten wind yet. If anyone found out, Natasha’s family would move her again. Anything to keep her hidden and safe, especially now that she was awake. Just last night, the doctors had called with the good news.
Rowan expected Natasha to be propped up on the pillows, reading a magazine, but she was asleep, and a tangle of tubes and wires still snaked into her veins. Her chest rose and fell with each breath. Her eyelids fluttered ever so slightly, and then, beautifully, they opened. The trademark Saybrook-blue eyes stared back at Rowan.
Deep breath, Rowan thought. Before the accident, she’d suspected Natasha of killing Poppy. Their last conversation hadn’t exactly been pleasant. But her cousin just smiled sheepishly. “Hi,” she said in a gravelly voice.
“How are you feeling?” Rowan asked tentatively.
Natasha slowly lifted her IV-clad hand to her cheek. “Not too bad.” She coughed loudly. “My parents were here before. They told me what happened. And they told me about Julia.” She lowered her eyes.
Rowan nodded. “It’s pretty unthinkable, isn’t it?”
Natasha’s head bobbed weakly. “I can’t believe it.”
Rowan couldn’t, either. Julia Gilchrist. But the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. She had access as the caretaker, as well as through Danielle’s job—and she had true motive.
It was still unclear how much havoc Julia had wreaked. Had she recovered the sex tape from Rowan’s computer and stolen Corinne’s journal? A picture of Julia had been handed out to the staff in all of the Saybrook’s buildings, the ski resort where Penelope had been hurt, and the private airport Poppy’s parents had flown from when their plane exploded. They were still waiting to hear back from most locations, but a concierge at the Four Seasons in Aspen had called to report that she’d remembered seeing a striking red-haired woman at the lodge when the accident occurred. There was no record of Julia staying there, but she might have registered under a false name.
The single-mindedness of it was what chilled Rowan the most. Julia had persevered for five long years after killing Steven. What would she have done next if Foley hadn’t connected the dots? Would Rowan and the others be dead now?
“Did they find Julia yet?” Natasha croaked.
Rowan shook her head. “No.” She awkwardly patted Natasha’s leg. “You shouldn’t worry about it, though. You need to concentrate on getting well.”
The door creaked, and Rowan looked up. Corinne and Aster pushed into the room, holding steaming cups of coffee. Both of them gave Natasha tentative, awkward hugs.
Rowan cleared her throat. “Natasha knows about Julia.”
Natasha nodded. “It’s crazy.”
Aster crossed her legs. “This might be a good time to . . . you know. Ask the other thing?”
Corinne frowned. “She just woke up,” she whispered. “It’s too soon.”
“Yeah, I don’t know,” Rowan said tentatively.
“Um, hello?” Natasha’s voice floated from the bed. “I’m right here. Whatever you have to ask, just ask it.”
Everyone clamped their mouths shut. Rowan glanced at the others. Corinne raised her eyebrows, then gave a nod. Aster nodded too. Taking a breath, Rowan said, “Apparently there’s a family secret. Mason knows it—and so did Steven Barnett.”
“Julia said it was something that could have destroyed the family,” Aster added. “You know what it is, don’t you?”
Natasha nodded, her face full of uncertainty. She looked down at her hands. “Yes.”
An alarm beeped in a hall, and a nurse was paged. Rowan set her coffee cup on the small table next to Natasha’s bed. “Tell us. I don’t care how devastating it is. We’re family; we can get through it.”
Corinne touched her hand and nodded.
Natasha was silent for a long time. Rowan worried they’d pushed her too hard, but then Natasha licked her dry lips. “Alfred’s story of how the business started is a lie.”
“What?” Rowan whispered, her heart beating fast.
Natasha moved her head to the side. “Are you sure you want to know?”
“Yes,” they all said in unison.
Natasha took a breath. “After the war, Papa and Harold Browne, his friend from the war? Well they were in a battalion that sorted through plunder the Nazis had stored in the Musée du Jeu de Paume in Paris. They were supposed to take everything to a repository in Munich so the items could be cataloged and returned to their rightful owners, but I guess Papa and Harold found a few things they wanted to keep for themselves.”
“Wait, what?” Rowan blurted. “You’re saying the diamonds he brought back were stolen?”