“Come,” Lilly said to Pepper as loud as she dared. Pepper followed, crashing through the dry brush like a tank.
“Stop right there!” Viktor shouted. “That damn bull isn’t getting off that easy!” He turned on a flashlight and shined it in their direction. Lilly and Cole froze and she grabbed his arm, her blood running cold. Viktor had a gun.
CHAPTER 30
JULIA
The morning after finding the hidden staircase up to the attic, Julia pulled herself out of bed and looked out the window. To her surprise, the sun was out and Claude had already piled the broken branches and sticks from the ice storm in the side yard. She glanced at the clock on her bedside table. It was already nine-thirty. How in the world had she slept so long? Then the memory of finding the attic bedroom hit her and she sat down hard on her bed. Her mind felt like she had lived a thousand years and, for some reason, her body ached like it too. Either that, or she was coming down with something. No, that wasn’t it. After learning she had a sister, finding the hidden bedroom, and speculating nonstop about what her parents had done, it was no wonder she wanted to sleep. It was too much to digest all at once, and she wanted it to go away. And yet, she had to know the truth. There was no other choice.
She got dressed, made her way down to the kitchen, and stood at the sink, staring out the window. How in the world she was going to fit all the pieces together? Why was her sister locked in the attic? And for how long? What happened to her? Did her parents have something to do with her death? Where was she buried? Was there a birth certificate? A death certificate? Was it possible the albino woman, Lilly, had something to do with this, or was she a separate issue altogether? Could the little girl have been Lilly’s child, an illegitimate baby shamefully hidden away when Mother found out about the affair?
There were probably more clues in the attic, but it would take months to go through everything, and Julia couldn’t wait that long. Besides, she wouldn’t know where to start. Her parents wouldn’t have wanted anyone to know they were hiding a child in the attic, so there probably wasn’t anyone to question. But someone, somewhere, had to know something. Then it hit her. There was one person who had been here through everything.
Claude.
She put on boots and a jacket, went out the back door, and marched over to the barn. Claude was at the desk in the office doing paperwork. He glanced up when she came in.
“Morning,” he said, then looked down at his work again.
“Morning,” she said. She waited on the other side of the desk, her hands in her jacket pockets to keep them from shaking. She wasn’t sure if she was worried he’d tell her the truth, or worried he’d refuse to talk again.
“I see you cleaned up the yard,” she said.
He kept his eyes on the papers. “Almost,” he said. “There’s still a few branches lying around, but most of it’s ready to be burned.”
“I can do that.”
“Suit yourself.” He penciled numbers into a ledger, concentrating.
She bit her lip, unsure how to begin. If he didn’t help her, she wouldn’t know what to do next. “I know you’re busy,” she said. “But can you come over to the house for a minute?”
“What for?”
“I need you to see something.”
He turned the ledger page and wrote down more numbers. “What is it? I’ve got to finish these accounts.”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “That’s why I need you to take a look.”
He finally looked up at her, his forehead furrowed. “Why don’t you ask Fletcher? He’ll be here in a few minutes.”
She shook her head. “Fletcher can’t help me with this. And I don’t have anyone else to ask. I found something in the house, something horrible and shocking . . . and . . . and if I don’t figure out what my parents . . .” Her voice caught in her throat and she pressed her fingers against her lips for a moment, trying to stop the sudden flow of tears. When she could speak again, she said, “I just want to know the truth.”
He leaned back in his chair and studied her face, as if sizing her up or judging her motives. Anger hardened his features, but she held his gaze, refusing to look away. If he read the determination in her eyes, so be it. She needed him to tell her what he knew.
After what seemed like forever, he sat forward, took off his cap, and scrubbed a hand over his graying hair. He set the cap on the desk and clasped his hands together against his mouth, thinking. Then he looked her in the eye. She thought he was going to refuse to help again, but his brow relaxed and his unyielding eyes softened. Defiance turned into something that looked like sadness, or maybe it was regret.
“You found a way into the attic,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
Her legs went watery. “Mm-hm,” she managed.
“And the hidden bedroom.”
She nodded, pulled a stool away from the wall, and sat down before she fell. “What do you know about it?”
He scratched the back of his neck and frowned, hesitant to go on. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight, as if the words were hard to say. “Your parents had another child.”
She nodded again.
“She wasn’t . . . she wasn’t . . . normal.”
Julia swallowed. “What do you mean? Was she deformed or something?”
He stood and made his way around the desk, then headed toward the door. She thought he was going to leave and she got to her feet, ready to beg him to stay. But he stopped and stared out the window next to the door. She sat back down, studying his profile. He looked troubled.
“It’s what people did back then,” he said. His voice sounded different, sad almost. Or maybe it was weary. “I suppose it was better than being put in an institution somewhere.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe if she had gotten help—”
“It wasn’t my business.”
She wanted to ask why a child being locked in an attic wasn’t his business, but refrained herself. If she made him mad, he might clam up again. “What was wrong with her?”
“I’m not sure. Some sort of skin condition, I think, but your father said she had other problems.”
Julia stiffened. Skin condition? What kind of skin condition? Albinism? Her mind reeled. Was it possible Lilly was her sister, not her father’s mistress? Is that why her father went to the circus all the time? But if her sister was locked in the attic, how and when did she get out? How did she end up joining the circus? It didn’t seem possible.
“Did you ever see her?”
Claude pressed his lips together and shook his head. He was lying again. She could tell.
“Was she an albino?” she said.
“I don’t know. Your father didn’t say much about her. He and Mrs. Blackwood were—”
“Ashamed?”
He turned to look at her. “I was going to say private. Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood were very private people. And I can’t be sure, but their decision might have had something to do with Mrs. Blackwood’s religious beliefs.”
“In what way?”
He shrugged. “It’s just the feeling I got.”
“What was her name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was it Lilly?”
“I’m not sure.”