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Florence will be asked over and over by the police what time, exactly, she saw the girls pass by her house. Her answer will change and change again because she isn’t sure. For the rest of her life, she will pay close attention to the time.
A lesson Caitlin has learned early on, is that beautiful people are often gifted beautiful things. Like flowers. Or journals.
But for the longest time, the media made it the nation’s business. They took the story and feasted on its carcass, sucking meat from bone until there was nothing left.
‘Anxiety is very rarely rational.’
A truth so ugly, I sometimes struggle to look in the mirror or sit quietly in my own company: it is my fault Olivia has been missing for sixteen years. If I had acted sooner, if I hadn’t frozen in that doorway, if I’d run downstairs and called the police or my parents instead of cowering until they returned, Olivia would have been found. The man in the Venetian mask would have been caught. This is the reason I bend to my mother’s will. I owe my parents the daughter they lost. That stayed lost because of me.
She bites her lip. ‘I have this horrible feeling.’ ‘What?’ And the way she looks at me makes fear rear up, visceral and wretched. ‘We aren’t all getting out of here alive.’