Liz couldn’t tear her eyes away from Dorian’s lips, the same lips that had echoed her own suspicions just moments before. Whatever her father had done, whatever he’d kept from her all these years, he’d done it to keep her safe.
From Warwick. The man who was really her father.
A flash of red in the doorway drew her gaze, and she found Lauren hovering between the living room and kitchen. Waiting.
“Scarlett called,” she announced hesitantly. “She wants you to call her back immediately.” Lauren’s red sweater grew brighter, a beacon. To what, Liz didn’t know.
Liz stood.
Dorian stood, too, ready to follow her into battle.
“Do you need to be alone?” Lauren asked, biting at her lip.
“No. It will be easier if you’re there.”
Dorian’s breath hitched, though he chose not to speak.
“You can come, too,” Liz told him. “Like it or not, we’re all in this now.”
“Let’s go to the living room. It will be more comfortable there,” Lauren suggested. “I’ll grab my laptop, too. Scarlett said she’d be forwarding an article for you to read.”
Liz watched as her friend disappeared into the back of the cabin. How hard would it be to run away now? Could she leave everything behind and start a new life without ever having to find out what was on the other end of Scarlett’s email?
A strong hand pressed into the small of her back. “It’ll be okay,” Dorian promised.
And she chose to believe that promise. It was the only way she could pick her feet up and move forward.
Shane sat in his favorite recliner, his cane propped to the side, ready.
Lauren returned with her laptop and settled onto the edge of her chair, leaving the love seat for Liz and Dorian.
He seemed surprised when she sank down beside him not at the far edge of the couch, but so that their hips were touching. She needed the added human connection to ground her when Scarlett shared what she knew.
“Are you ready?” Dorian asked, his eyes vibrant and full of life, like a meadow in springtime.
Liz gulped. No, she wanted to scream, but instead she nodded. She needed to do this, needed to know whatever she could learn about the mystery of her life.
Scarlett picked up on the first ring, and Liz put her on speaker.
“You’re not going to believe what I found!” Scarlett cried, and Liz couldn’t discern whether she was excited, terrified, or perhaps both. “I sent the article to your email, but first let me explain how I found it…”
Liz sighed. She didn’t want to know how. She wanted to know what—and more importantly, why. Would those answers be coming, too?
“We’re all ears,” Dorian said when Liz failed to provide a response.
Scarlett sounded pleased. “Is that Dorian? I knew you weren’t such a bad guy. Actually, Henry did, but I also—”
“The article, Scar,” Lauren urged.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry! So I called the folks at the Register, but they couldn’t pinpoint the exact article that went with that picture without at least knowing a date, or a range of dates. Their archives are out of whack because of the digitization, just like I said they might be. Anyway, they told me they’re about halfway through the process, and the person I spoke with really wanted to help. She offered to run some other searches for me since the archives aren’t public yet.”
“And?” Liz asked. She knew Scarlett loved the process of learning just as much as the result, but this was torture. She needed to know now, not ten minutes from now. “What did you find?”
“Well, at first nothing. I searched for missing girl, but that came up with way too many hits. I searched for Ben Benjamin, Charles Warwick—you know, the likely suspects. Nothing. Then I thought I should search for you, right? So I tried Jane Warwick, Janie Warwick, nothing. Then on the off chance, I had them put in Elizabeth Benjamin. Bingo. That did it.”
“I don’t understand. I thought her real name was Jane Warwick?” Dorian said as the rest of them fell silent. Liz glanced up at him and found his brow furrowed, the gears in his head turning but not gaining momentum.
Scarlett’s voice took on a more serious tone. She’d shared her research; now it was time to discuss the findings. “Maybe it is, and maybe it isn’t, but one thing’s for sure—you’re definitely not Elizabeth Benjamin.”
“What?” Liz asked. Her voice felt like thorns pushing against her throat. “Why? Why would you say that?”
“Look at the article I sent,” Scarlett said matter-of-factly. Her voice cracked on the last syllable.
Lauren raced over with the computer and placed it on Liz’s lap.
“I’m opening it now,” Liz said, panic rising within her. She needed to know, but she also didn’t want to. She wanted everything to be as it had been before, as it always was. Once she opened the attachment, there would be no going back.
She clicked to open it, and the world stopped.
“What is it?” Shane asked from his chair.
“It’s my…” Liz choked on the next word. It was too big, too scary to let out into the world.
Dorian looked over her shoulder at the screen. “It’s her obituary.”