When Evangeline saw the number flash across her screen, she hesitated for several seconds before declining the call.
Her phone went quiet after that—no follow-up call, no persistent ringing.
Evangeline stared at the screen, thinking it over. In the end, she grabbed her coat and slipped outside to the public phone booth downstairs. With trembling hands, she dialed the number that had just tried to reach her.
Her fingers shook as she pressed each digit.
Ever since Theresa left, Evangeline had never been able to truly relax. Over the years, she’d hired people to search for news about her, always discreet, always behind closed doors. She knew Theresa didn’t want to be found—especially not by the Carlisles or by Victor—so she had to keep her search a secret. Even Glenn, who was always by her side, knew nothing about it.
The detective she trusted was the only one who knew. If he was calling, it meant he’d found something about Theresa.
Whenever he tracked down a lead, they had an unspoken rule: unless it was urgent, she wouldn’t call him back right away. The next day, he’d meet her in person and hand over whatever he’d found.
But tonight, after Glenn had shown her that earring—Theresa’s favorite—Evangeline couldn’t sit still. She couldn’t ignore the call.
The moment the line connected, she blurted out, “What did you find?”
The detective seemed surprised she was calling back for once, pausing for a moment before regaining his composure. “We’ve tracked Miss Carlisle’s whereabouts. She’s—”
Before he could finish, Evangeline interrupted, “Don’t tell me where she is. Just tell me—how is she? Is she safe?”
There was a two-second silence on the other end. “I came across a photo from six months ago. Someone saw her, and she looked fine. But the day after that photo was taken, Miss Carlisle set out to sea. No one’s heard from her since.”
“She went out to sea?” Evangeline froze.
That earring—the one the Carlisles had found—had washed up on the shore near Serenity Bay.
No. It couldn’t be.
Maybe it was just a coincidence.
Trying to steady herself, Evangeline asked, “In the photo, was she wearing earrings?”
She described the earring’s shape, color, every tiny detail she could remember, clinging to the hope that maybe—just maybe—Theresa had lost it before the photo was taken. If that was the case, maybe she was still all right.
But the detective didn’t let her hold onto that hope for long. “Yes. She was wearing it.”
“And according to people here, after she went out to sea, she never came back.”
That final sentence hit Evangeline like a punch to the chest. Her heart seemed to stop for a moment.
Theresa had treated that earring like it was her very life. If she’d lost it, she would have searched for it desperately. Even if she’d made it somewhere safe, how could she move on without the one thing she treasured most? Would she fall apart again—like she had before?
Evangeline’s thoughts spiraled. Should she tell the Carlisles? Should she ask someone to look for Theresa? But what if it was just a misunderstanding? What if Theresa had finally let go?
But—what if it wasn’t a misunderstanding? What if something had really happened to her?
Breathing grew harder and harder, panic closing in.
After her mother died, Evangeline had all but severed ties with the Whitmores. Five years as Mrs. Fawkes had left her almost entirely isolated. She could count on one hand the number of times Soren had been willing to speak to her face-to-face.
She was used to facing things alone, to figuring out solutions with no one to turn to.
But this—Theresa—was different.
Now, more than anything, she wished someone could tell her what to do.
Just as she was sinking into that hopeless fog, a heavy hand landed on her shoulder.
Evangeline flinched, her whole body tensing. She spun around, coming face to face with Glenn’s worried, questioning eyes.
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