“She knows you and Billy stole her from me,” Doro said.
Frances let out an incredulous laugh. “Stole her? Stole her? The only reason you didn’t go to prison was because Billy couldn’t bring himself to turn in his precious, darling Kitten for attempting to murder her own infant daughter.” She shook her head. “All he ever wanted was to protect you and Megan. He moved to that godforsaken town just so he could keep an eye on you. And this—”
She thrust something out to Doro, and the thing flashed in the moonlight: a silver julep cup, identical to the ones I’d seen on the bar at Ambletern. Doro stiffened. Moved back.
“Billy gave it to me the same day he gave me Megan,” Frances said. “He said keeping it safe meant keeping her safe.”
Frances walked past Doro and slammed the silver cup on the wall. When she stepped away, I saw the dent, a caved-in spot around the engraved letter A.
“I don’t understand,” I said.
Frances shook her head. “I was scared they would take you away from me. I thought if I didn’t hide the cup—keep the whole house of cards standing—everything would unravel. The truth would come out about you, and I’d lose you forever. To protect you, I had to protect her. But I was wrong, Megan. I should’ve gone to the police that day and told them everything.”
I couldn’t feel any tingling anymore; I’d gone completely numb.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “There’s got to be more.”
I felt Frances and Doro exchange a glance. A current, almost electric in nature, passed between them.
“What!” I practically screamed. “What is it?”
“Don’t, Frances,” Doro said in a low voice. “It won’t solve anything.”
“You have your cup back, Doro. Take it. Just let me and my daughter go home.”
Doro snickered. “I don’t tell Meg where to go, Frances. She doesn’t belong to me. She belongs to herself.”
Frances took a step toward me. “I know I haven’t been what you wanted. I know I failed you. Just, please . . . please come home with me.”
I pointed at the silver cup. “That’s the murder weapon? That’s what killed Kim Baker?”
Frances’s stricken face told me the truth.
“Billy asked you to hide it?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“To protect who, exactly? Him? Doro? Who killed Kimmy?”
Her face creased in anguish. “I wanted you to be happy, Megan. And you couldn’t be happy if you knew about your real mother. What she had done to . . . other people. What she did to you.”
“You BITCH!” Doro burst out. “Don’t listen to her. She took that cup from Ambletern this week, and now she’s making up some crazy story to turn you against me.”
“No, Doro,” I said. “She may be lying about everything else, but she’s telling the truth about that. That cup’s been sitting on a shelf in her office ever since I can remember.”
“Then she took it when she was here years ago,” Doro said. “It’s not the murder weapon. I didn’t do it. I was a child—an eight-year-old beanpole. You think I was capable of smashing somebody’s skull with a little silver cup?”
Some half-formed thought, something I couldn’t quite capture and distill, flitted through my brain, then evaporated.
“That leaves her.” Doro pointed at Frances. “She was desperate for attention. The only problem was she didn’t have a story. She didn’t have anything that would make the world notice her. So she killed Kimmy and wrote a book that blamed me.”
“I thought you said Billy did it,” I said.
“I was mistaken.” Doro picked up the cup and threw it at Frances. She ducked and it bounced off the rocks behind her with a clang. “You already got your pound of flesh, Frances,” Doro snapped. “Why did you come back? Are you still not satisfied, after all you took from me?”
“No, Doro, I’m not.” Frances’s jaw worked in the light of the lantern. “I’m not satisfied. I want my daughter back.”
Doro roared. “How dare you make this about yourself? I was the one who lost everything, not you!”
“You tried to kill your baby,” Frances said and my heart sputtered, like it might cease to beat. “Your daughter is the one who almost lost everything!”
“It was Billy!” Doro screamed. She turned a pleading face to me. “Meg, you have to believe me. She’s twisting everything. It was Billy who wanted you dead, not me.” She flew to me, grabbed my arms. “I named you Aiyana. It’s Cherokee. It means ‘eternal blossom.’”
Laughter bubbled up from Frances. “God, no! No, it doesn’t. It’s just some made-up name she found in a novel or something. You’re not Native American, Doro, no matter how hard you pretend. You’re not Guale or Cherokee or Creek or anything. And neither is Meg.”
Doro ignored her and reached a hand out to me. “I named you Aiyana, because I wanted you to know your heritage. Your true heritage. This island is yours and you deserve to rule over this place with me.”
I shook my head.
“I saw the pictures. I always thought you and Frances were so happy together. But when your agent wrote me and told me how badly she had treated you all your life—your adoptive mother—I knew it was a gift from the Creator. He had brought you back to me, so you could know your true home. Your real mother.”
I backed away from them both. Pressed my fingers to my throbbing temples. Oh, God. What was she saying? What did this mean? Had Doro tried to kill me? Or Billy? Who was I supposed to be afraid of here? Who was I supposed to believe?
“Megan,” Frances said.
“Aiyana,” Doro said at the same time.
No, no, no . . .
The word worked its way from brain to mouth, taking on a force I couldn’t suppress.
“No!” I screamed. “Just stop. Stop. I don’t believe anything you say. You scare the shit out of me, okay? You fucking terrify me. And I don’t trust either of you.” I took a few uncertain steps away from them. “I need you both to just . . . to just . . . go. Or I need to go, I don’t know . . .”
Doro moved toward me. “You don’t love her, Meg. You’ve always known something was wrong. And you were right. She wasn’t your real mother.”
I looked into her eyes. Felt tears slipping down my cheeks. Dripping past my chin and rolling over my neck. But I couldn’t speak.
“This is why you came back,” Doro said, softly now. “To find me. To be where you belong.” Her electric-blue gaze burned into me. “I love you. And you love me. Tell her. Tell her the truth. Now that you’ve found your mother, your real mother, you don’t need her anymore.”
I ripped away from her and stumbled back.
Doro said, “Aiyana.”
Frances reached out to me. “Megan . . .”
“No,” I said again. “Don’t either of you touch me. I can’t deal with this now.” I looked back, trying to find Koa in the Jeep, but it was so dark, I couldn’t see a thing.
“Megan, will you just listen to what I have to say?” Frances said.