“My grandmother never spoke of her work. I only know what I’ve read; that they researched unexplained disappearances.”
“She was smart not to tell you. She wanted to protect you. She’s a…” Blue’s voice trembled for a moment. “She’s a good girl, your grandmother.”
“So you’re one of them, then? Rudd said it was my grandmother who summoned him and the others to find me. Are you taking orders from her?”
She took a deep breath. “We claim her as one of us, even though she only communicates with one of our members. The Corcillium wanted her to join us, but she refused. She trusted no one. I certainly cannot blame her.”
“What is this… Corcillium?”
“It’s actually the name of this house,” Blue said, looking around. “The family who owned it considered it the heart of their family—corcillum means “heart” in Latin. Ultimately, it was inherited by one of our first members, and it became the center of the group that took its name. The Corcillium is like a council that directs the work of the Researchers. About fourteen years ago, I joined that council. But before that, I worked for the same shadow agency that wishes to take you and never let you go.”
“You mean… you worked for those men in suits?”
“I was with the SSA for most of my entire life, until something happened, shall we say, that showed me the truth. And now I lead the Corcillium. Which is why, when I learned that you had surfaced in Arkansas, I sent my people to protect you. Leaving your family was a dangerous move. You were safe with them, in the protective bubble created by your parents and grandparents. You have no idea what danger you put yourself in by going on the run.”
Blue looked to Lily. “And when Rudd and the others told me about you, Miss Lily, I knew we had to keep you both safe. I’ve lived more than one hundred years without dying, but I felt like I almost would when I heard of the motel exploding. And yet, you survived. And at last, you are here.”
“So it’s all been a lie, then,” William said. “My grandmother wasn’t behind all this.”
Blue leaned forward. “Tell me, what do you know about your mother’s family? Her mother and father?”
“Why does it matter?”
“It matters greatly.”
William raised his eyebrow. “Not much. Only that they built the house where my grandmother lives. My great-grandfather was a landscaper. And my grandmother’s mother died when she was just a child.”
Blue reached over to the file in the seat of the wheelchair, her hands trembling, to open it and pull out a small photo. “I don’t even know… if your grandmother has any photos of her mother.”
She passed a small black-and-white photograph to him. The edges were yellowed and torn on one corner. It looked to be an ID of some sort, as the woman in the picture was not smiling.
“Do you recognize your great-grandmother?” she asked.
“Honestly… I think my grandmother has one photo in her bedroom, of her mother holding her as a baby. But I never really looked at it. Are you saying this is my great-grandmother? And how, may I ask, do you have it?”
“Her name was Freda Stanson, isn’t that right?”
“Yes. What does this have to do with anything?”
“Look closely at it. In fact, focus solely on that picture until I tell you otherwise. Hold it up, right there. Think of nothing but that face.”
“Ma’am, please—”
“Please, William. It’s the beginning of the explanation as to why you’re here.”
He sighed, holding up the photo before his eyes. Even in the black-and-white photo, he could see she had the same blond hair as Nanna, a trait passed along to his aunts but not his mother. She had other features like his grandmother: a graceful neck, the small ears, the curled hair. How many times had he heard Nanna grumble about how often she had to pull her own curls from her face, muttering that the only time it was ever controlled was when it was tightly curtailed in a bun—?
He dropped the picture. In the seconds that he’d stared at the photo, Blue had pulled out the few pins in her hair, letting it now fall in curls around her face. She was also extending her own neck to reveal its natural state before age took its toll.
No. It can’t possibly be—
“She didn’t die, William,” she said. “Despite all she’s seen and done, she is still alive. And she is very happy to, at long last, meet her great-grandson.”
William had not wanted to go when Rudd returned to the porch, right on cue from where he had been waiting, directing him to follow. He’d stammered something about not moving a muscle, staring at Blue’s face, astonished at the growing resemblance to Nanna, even his own mother. Blue’s eyes were filled with happy tears as Rudd had placed his hand on William’s shoulder, saying there were things he needed to see.
“Go, my boy,” Blue had said. “Read our family’s history. You need to see it for yourself. I’ve waited all my life for this moment. I’m not going anywhere.”
Rudd’s grip had been insistent. Blue turned to Lily and said she’d love to get to know her a little better, and the little girl had warily watched William stand and leave in a haze of astonishment.
Once in the hallway, he’d stopped and turned back to the porch. “No, I’ve got to talk to her—”
“You will. But she wants you to see something first. You’ll understand. And then you can come back,” Rudd beckoned.
Down the hall and then a turn into a butler’s pantry, where a heavy set of double doors stood. Directly beside them was a small painting of a woman standing behind a greyhound. Rudd moved the painting, which hung not on a hook but by hinges, opening it like a cabinet door to reveal a keypad underneath.
After he punched in a code, a loud, mechanical sound echoed from the wall. Rudd opened the doors to reveal a concealed elevator.
It was a short one-floor ride downwards. The basement that opened up before them was a stark contrast to the airy, antiques-filled rooms above. The walls and floor here were all concrete, with rows of shelves stocked with files and folders. A long metal table with a lamp stretched out in the center, with a thin stack of papers in the center.
“It’s all ready.”
The voice was deep but scratchy with age. The back of a man’s head, almost bushy with stark white hair, was barely visible in a corner table, where he sat in front of a laptop.
“Thank you,” Rudd said.
“Is she doing alright?” the man asked. “I do not want her overextended.”
“Good luck telling her to go take a nap.”
The man chuckled, returning to study the computer screen.
“William, have a seat,” Rudd said.
“What is all this?”
“The most valuable assets we have.” Rudd pulled out a chair, motioning to sit. “The research of the Corcillium. Into all the cases of the missing, gathered from around the nation. Each one has a file. This is your grandmother’s.”
A photocopy of a letter rested on top of the stack. “These aren’t the originals; those are stored in the shelves around you. But we’ve taken the copies and put them in chronological order so you can understand.”
“Copies of what? I don’t even know what I’m looking at.”
Rudd crossed his arms. “Not even your grandmother has seen the letters that her parents wrote about her disappearance.”
“Letters to whom? The Corcillium?”
Rudd shook his head. “To fully comprehend what you’re facing, you need to read every word. I’m going to leave you to it. It’s not that we don’t trust you—but our friend there in the corner will keep an eye on you. He’ll let me know when you’re done.”
William leaned forward as Rudd walked away, his steel-toed boots crossing the floor to the elevator.