They went back downstairs and Max called Nick while Faith hunted for the box. His cell phone went to voice mail, and she remembered he said he’d had plans.
“Nick, it’s Max Revere. I’m pretty certain I know who was buried at Atherton Prep. I’m at her sister’s house now, and she’s willing to give her DNA to compare. Faith Voss. Her sister Carrie hasn’t been seen in thirteen years. There’s more, but we should talk in person. Call me.” She hung up.
Faith put a shoe box on the table. “I got rid of most of Carrie’s things—clothes and junk. These are papers and stuff my mom boxed up after we got the first postcard.”
Max went through everything quickly. There was nothing important here, at least at first glance. School papers, report cards, photos, lots of sticky notes.
One sticky note stuck out at her because of the date: Greenwald, Thurs. 5/31 at 10.
Two days before Lindy’s murder.
She looked up Greenwald on her phone. Amelia Greenwald, OB/GYN, in practice in Redwood City for the past twenty-two years.
Carrie had been pregnant.
“What’s that?” Faith asked.
“I don’t know,” Max said. She wasn’t going to share her theory with Faith, not yet.
Max flipped quickly through the pictures. They were all from high school, which made sense even though Carrie had been a first-year college student. You leave your high school memories at home, make new ones in college.
“Where did Carrie leave her stuff from college?”
“I don’t know,” Faith said. “I thought she brought it all here. She might have taken it with her to—” She cut herself off.
The sticky notes were Carrie’s calendar. Max spread them out by date if there was a date. She’d been home for two weeks. The sticky notes showed appointments, plans, her last days written in abbreviation.
LUNCH WITH LINDY.
No date. But sometime during the two weeks Carrie had been home from college, she’d had planned a lunch with Lindy Ames.
And they both were dead.
Max resisted the urge to box everything up and take it with her. But this was a police investigation. She said to Faith, “The police are going to want all of this.” She kept an old school paper to compare Carrie’s handwriting.
“What happened?” Faith asked. It was hypothetical, but she still looked at Max for answers.
Max didn’t respond. Instead she said, “If you think of anything else that happened the week Carrie was supposed to leave for Europe, call me.”
Chapter Twenty-five
Max left Faith’s house and went straight to Eleanor’s. She was ready to steamroll over any of her grandmother’s objections to what she was going to do, but the house was empty, even though it was nine at night. Not unusual, since Eleanor was involved in many charitable groups and had many friends she dined with. Since Max’s grandfather died, Eleanor spent more time out with friends, as if being alone in this big house without James saddened her.
For all of Eleanor’s faults, her grandmother had loved her husband dearly. It was their unity, their mutual admiration and respect, and the love Max had seen in their eyes that told Max that for some people, marriage worked.
People who didn’t lie or commit adultery.
Max went straight to Eleanor’s office and turned on the lights. She’d always been a bit in awe and intimidated by the stately, Queen Anne–style room, with real antiques and delicate touches. It was also immaculate, and Eleanor would be certain to know that Max had been in here.
Eleanor had kept old-fashioned date books most of her life. One page per day, with plenty of room for appointments, notes, and a daily diary. They went back to the year she was engaged. Fifty-nine years. She had the next two years already purchased. The current year was on her desk.
For a moment, Max was in awe of her grandmother’s diligence. Unlike Lindy’s secretive, gossipy diary, Eleanor had marked days of importance. On days of historical significance, like 9/11, the Kennedy assassination, royal weddings, peace treaties, she wrote what her initial thoughts were, and often referenced the major event through the months and years ahead, from a different perspective. But she also noted smaller things.
Like the day William and Max graduated from high school. Like the day her mother left Max to live in this house to be raised by a family she didn’t know.
Max had never gone through Eleanor’s date books before, other than with express permission, and it made her uncomfortable, like she was peeking in her underwear drawer or worse. And while she didn’t want to believe that Eleanor would destroy fifty-nine years of history, she knew that for her family, she would.
Max wanted to pull out the archives and read what Eleanor really thought when Martha left Max behind. But right now she needed to prove she was wrong. Prove that William hadn’t been to all those places abroad at the same time Carrie Voss allegedly sent Faith the postcards.
She pulled out the book from thirteen years ago. It opened in the middle, on Max and William’s high school graduation.
After Lindy’s murder, but before Kevin had been arrested.
Eleanor had written:
Pride fills my soul at my grandchildren today. James said, “Ellie, we are lucky.” I don’t believe in luck, but today, I feel greatly blessed.
William—he is intelligent, considerate, and has a heart with far more compassion than his father. Today, he looks more a man than I’ve ever seen him.
Maxine—More my daughter than my granddaughter. I never understood Martha, but Maxine—she says what I wish I could say. I admire her passion for life. Her love of friends and family, her firm commitment to her values, the depth of her self-awareness. I will miss her greatly.
Max had to reread the comment because she’d never heard her grandmother say anything like this to her.
I will miss her greatly.