I couldn’t get our conversation about fear out of my head. I mostly tried to ignore and avoid thinking about his confession. I couldn’t even go there mentally or emotionally. I also couldn’t stop thinking about his story about his death. The more I considered it, the more I believed it was pretty likely not knowing the truth was his unfinished business keeping him tied to the living, to this land.

After stewing on the entire situation for a few days, I decided I was going to do what I could to try to get him answers. I first called Jos to ask her where she found the information about Archer and the steamer accident. I also called Scarlett up to get some advice and tips from her on how to go about finding more information.

I spent the next week researching everything and anything remotely related to the steamer accident, Archer, and Helena. I had never been more grateful to live in the age of technology where the internet and Google were at my fingertips and so many records were now digital and easy to access if you knew where to look.

I learned a lot about Archer’s family. They were still extremely wealthy and held ownership stakes in many of the businesses they’d owned while he was alive. His parents had never gotten over the loss, sadly. From all accounts, he was an incredibly distinctive and well-liked man during his life. Knowing him now, I did not doubt it, though it saddened me he never believed his father felt that way.

Helena ended up marrying the man she was on the steamer with when it crashed. Their names had been on the passenger manifests, so it was easy to put those pieces together. Archer was correct in his intuition and concern about her. There wasn’t much said about the life Helena had led after her fiancé died and she married her husband.

They did end up having three children, and their youngest child, a daughter named Charlotte who was born to them pretty late, was still alive. She lived in the family home near Seattle. I made calls to arrange a meeting with her while I was out of the house. I didn’t want Archer knowing what I was up to, not yet at least. I didn’t want to get his hopes up.

She was in her early nineties, so there was a good chance her memory wasn’t too good anymore or that she’d never known anything about her mother’s life before marrying her father. I made arrangements with Charlotte’s granddaughter, whom she lived with. She assured me Charlotte was eager to speak with me, and I was looking forward to the conversation as well.

I finally had a break in my schedule a week later. I let Archer know I was heading to Seattle for a couple of days but was vague about my reasons why. I didn’t owe him an explanation, but if roles were reversed, I would worry and would want to know. I sent Dan a text message letting him know what was going on in case he happened to try to surprise me at the house while I was gone, though since it had yet to happen, I didn’t think I had much to worry about there.

I was anxious the entire trip over, running questions I had through my head over and over again. My expectations were all over the place. I prayed I was able to get answers to the questions I had and hoped I could provide Archer with some peace and resolution to the questions running through his head for the better part of a century.

I drove into the Mount Baker neighborhood of Seattle and was completely stunned. I found myself surrounded by historic homes, several with million-dollar views. I slowly pulled up to a gorgeous Tudor Revival estate and knew this was the home Helena had lived in and raised her family in.

As I parked where Charlotte’s granddaughter Emily had directed me to in our conversation, a young woman around my age stepped out of the home to greet me. I got out of the car and walked up to meet her, shaking her hand, and introducing myself.

“I’m in awe of this home, it’s stunning,” I gushed after the introductions were made.

“It really is something, isn’t it?” she asked with affection. “It was completed in 1915, and my great-grandmother Helena moved in with my great-grandfather and their first two children. My grandmother Charlotte has lived here most of her life. Her sister and brother never wanted to live here—I’m not sure why—so she inherited the home. She is really excited to meet you. I told her you came across Helena’s story and became interested and wanted to learn more. I figured you both could fill each other in on everything else.”

She led me into the home and through several beautiful and well-kept rooms, almost all with breathtaking views of Lake Washington, and out onto a deck overlooking the rear of the estate, the lake, and the Cascades. Sitting in one of the chairs at the outdoor table was an older, beautiful woman, regal in stature. The woman stood, smiling.

“Hello, you must be Rosalind,” she said warmly, reaching her hand out for me to shake.

“And you must be Charlotte. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

A box sat on the table, along with cookies and coffee. While there was a chill in the air, it felt warm and cozy at the table. I looked up to see built-in heaters above us pumping full force. We both sat down at the table, and she offered me the coffee carafe. Once we were settled with refreshments, I turned to her and smiled.

Charlotte was in her early nineties but didn’t look a day over sixty-five. She was tall, slender, and moved with fluid, graceful movements. Her back was straight with better posture than I had. Intelligence was evident in her eyes, and any concerns I had about how present or able she was to have this conversation were unfounded. There was an air of kindness and humor about her.

“Thank you so much for taking the time to meet with me, I really appreciate it.”

“It’s my pleasure. The older you get, the fewer visitors you tend to get, though I do have a lot of social engagements that keep me busy, and Emily’s friends seem to enjoy hanging out with an old lady when they stop by too. I think it’s because I mix strong drinks and tell wild stories about my youth,” she said with laughter in her voice. “Emily mentioned you wanted to talk about my mother, Helena.”

“Yes. I live in a home built on the land Archer Breckenridge once owned. I moved there recently and became interested in the history of the land, and its former inhabitants. It led me to Archer and Helena. I wanted to learn as much as I could about Helena, so anything you can share with me, I would love to know.”

“Very interesting,” she said as she lifted the lid off the box and pulled a photo out. “This was my mother.” It was the same woman in the photo Jos had shown me. I picked the picture up and studied it before looking up at Charlotte.

“You look just like her,” I said in awe.

“Yes, I heard it a lot growing up. It created a lot of issues between my mother and me, especially as I became a teenager.” She took a sip of her coffee and looked down at the photo in my hands.

“What kind of issues?”

“My mother wasn’t what you would call warm or kind. She was good at hiding her true self from people, but to the people who truly knew her, we knew how she really was. She was jealous of my youth and my looks. She was in her late thirties when she had me. I wasn’t planned, and my mother always let me know how displeased she was that she was ruining her body over me, never mind the fact that she had had other children. The shaming and jealousy got worse the older we both got.”

“What about your father?”

Warmth and affection softened her face. “My father, Richard, on the other hand, was a fine man. He was loving and funny but tortured. I never fully understood the dynamic between him and my mother, what drew them together. He sincerely loved her though, there was no doubt about it. He stayed with her to the very end.”

She pulled out another photo and handed it to me. It was a picture of a very handsome man. Light hair, dark eyes, tall and well built. He had a warm smile and his eyes crinkled. Charlotte pulled out another photo, and it was a candid one of her parents together. They made a stunning couple.

“Dad was also from a well-connected, wealthy family. Not as rich as the Breckenridges, but he would have been deemed an acceptable match for my mother if the Averys hadn’t been so close to the Breckenridges. I heard whispers here and there about Archer growing up. Initially, my mother was infatuated with Archer. I used to eavesdrop quite a bit as a child, and she was a boastful woman, proud of sharing her wicked exploits with her close friends. I’m not sure if you are aware, but Archer was previously engaged.”

“Yes, but I don’t know anything about her.”

“Her name was Lucinda, and according to my mother, they were very much in love. Lucinda’s family ended up sending her to Europe where she married someone else. Archer was quite upset. I overheard my mother tell some friends once she was responsible for it. She claimed she had arranged a meeting with Lucinda’s aunt, where she gossiped about Archer and Lucinda having intimate relations. Neither family supported the engagement, so once an heir between the two was imminent if they didn’t act, she was sent away and a more desirable union was arranged. That was the kind of woman my mother was. She saw something she wanted and went for it, with no concern for the people she hurt.”

I sat silent and shocked. While I trusted Archer’s intuition, I wasn’t necessarily sold on the idea of Helena being directly responsible for his death, but after what Charlotte had just told me, I reconsidered. I sat back and considered how I would ask the next question. There was no PC way to do it.

“It looks like there is something on your mind, Ros. Go ahead and ask. If I know, I’ll be as honest as I can.” She smiled at me encouragingly.

“Okay. In my research, I came across an account that maybe hinted at some foul play in Archer’s death. Had your parents ever talked about that day?”

I was satisfied with how I’d managed to ask. I didn’t want to outright accuse her parents of being involved, and I hoped she read between the lines and had the information I was looking for. She sighed deeply, a furrow appearing between her brows as she laced her fingers together. I patiently waited for her to be ready to talk.

“My parents argued over Archer a lot. I don’t know if they thought we couldn’t hear or weren’t listening, but I did. I was always listening. My dad held a lot of guilt in his life. It weighed him down. He was never able to be completely happy because of it—well, guilt and the poison that was my mother. As a child and teen, I knew the guilt revolved around Archer, but I never knew why. As a young woman, I came to believe it was over their infidelity. My parents began their relationship while she was still engaged to Archer. I knew it was something my dad wouldn’t have been comfortable with. But again, he loved my mother, enough to stay with her through all her antics.

“One day when I was in my early twenties, I came home while my parents were in the middle of an intense argument. They didn’t know I was there. My mother was screaming about Archer, about how she married the wrong man, how she should have stayed with him, how much she regretted marrying my father. He said, and I will never forget, ‘How can you say that, Helena, when I risked everything for you when I killed for you?’ He sounded so broken. Her response? ‘If I couldn’t have him, no one could. I wish I hadn’t let you have me. If it weren’t for Rebecca, I could have married Archer.’ My father cried that day. Sobbed. It was then I realized my mother had forced my father to kill Archer. His appearance on the ship and the collision of the steamer worked in her favor, but I believe she would have had him killed no matter what.

“In her eyes, he belonged to her. She didn’t want anyone else having what was hers, even if she didn’t want him anymore. It was also the day I found out the only reason my mother married my father was because she had gotten pregnant with my sister, Rebecca. I don’t believe she would have married him otherwise. I think she would have gone on to marry Archer. The guilt slowly killed my dad. He was the sweetest, gentlest man. I don’t know how he did it, but I know it killed him. His love for my mother destroyed him.”

I was stunned. She didn’t continue for a while, which I was grateful for. I needed a moment to absorb what she’d just said. I had hoped to get answers, but never had I expected to find validation to Archer’s beliefs so quickly. I looked up at Charlotte and she looked sad and a little broken herself.

“I didn’t realize I was living with some guilt this whole time too. I never asked either of my parents about what happened, and I never shared this information with anyone. The guilt of just knowing a secret like this can weigh you down too,” she said. “I know you don’t have to, but I would appreciate if you kept this between us. All the involved parties are long gone, but it could still hurt all the families involved if it got out. I hope you understand.” I could see the worry written all over her face.

“Oh, Charlotte,” I said, reaching over and covering her hand with mine in a calming gesture, “I wanted to satisfy my own curiosity. I never planned on sharing this information with anyone.” She smiled warmly at me, relief in her eyes.

“Thank you, Ros, I really appreciate it.” We sat for a few minutes, eating our cookies and drinking our coffee. “Have you ever seen a picture of Archer?” she asked me suddenly, changing the subject.

“Yes, just one during some research.”

She reached into her box and pulled out a few photographs. “Here you go,” she said as she handed them over to me. “He was handsome, wasn’t he? As good-looking as my dad was, I have to say, Archer Breckenridge was more attractive.”

I looked down at the photos. One was the photo Jos had shown me. One of the others was a portrait and another one a candid.

“My mother held on to these in secret. I discovered them after her death, and I couldn’t bear to part with them either. He is a part of our family history now.”

I picked up the candid of him. It looked like he had been sitting for a photo session but happened to be caught laughing when he didn’t know a picture was being taken. I subconsciously caressed the picture, taking in his smile, thinking about how good it felt to have the smile directed at me. Charlotte made a sound and I glanced up quickly to find her with her neck crooked to the side, looking at me curiously.

“You look as though you know him, love him even,” she said.

“He resembles someone I once knew,” was all I could give as an explanation. There was no way to tell her I indeed had come to care for him more than I should.

We continued to talk about her parents, her family, including her husband and children. Before I knew it, hours had passed and it was time for me to head to my hotel. I thanked Charlotte for a wonderful and unforgettable day, and she invited me back anytime I was in the area.

As I drove off, I thought about how I’d share this information with Archer, whether he would believe it or not. How did you tell someone long dead they had been murdered? By the time I headed back to Orcas Island the next afternoon, I still didn’t have an answer to that question.