Page 114 of The Last Letter of Rachel Ellsworth

She gave in to her curiosity, but it was only one, and it was from Jill.Tell Mariah I can’t find the last letter.

Ok. Is that true?

No. But it’s honestly a letter of despair, and I don’t think it will do her any good.

Veronica paused, thumb hovering.If it’s all right with you, I’d like to read it myself. To understand what happened.

Three dots.

Three dots.

Ok.

Thank you.

How is Mariah doing?

Not great, honestly. Most of the time, she seems about six seconds from a panic attack. We have some business here in Delhi, connected to the people Rachel knew here, and then I think we’re cutting our losses and coming back. So, the next couple of days.

Good. Let me know. You’ve been really good to her, thank you.

Glad to help.

She lowered the phone and drank the last dregs of her tea. What could be so bad in that letter? What would they find out today?

Chapter Fifty-Two

The trio met for breakfast on the rooftop, eating omelets and little bananas. Mariah was grouchy after sleeping in fits and starts, growing more and more irritable as the night passed. The window of her room looked out to a wall, and she wasn’t confident enough in her knowledge of this world to go out exploring on her own.

And honestly, if a person could sense ghosts, there were a lot in this hotel, and everywhere they’d been since arriving on the train. If you could see them walking around, Mariah thought they’d be all through the crowds, walking right along with everybody else. Hundreds, all woven into the fabric of the human flow here. Right now, sitting at the little table with a view of tumbles of old buildings, she thought she could feel ghosts sitting right here with them, one right by Veronica, a friendly spirit, so nothing to worry about, but not all of them were.

But where was her mother? If Mariah was so good at sensing ghosts, why couldn’t she sense her own mom? Surely Rachel would be here now, while they explored her past.

Or maybe, she thought, peeling another banana, it was just her imagination, and it was all bullshit. Way more likely.

“What’s the plan today? And did Jill send the last letter?”

“No, I didn’t hear from her.”

“I’m going to text her again.”

Henry put a hand over hers as she started to pick up her phone. “Maybe just let it go for today. Let’s find the bookstore, see what we find out.”

Veronica said, “I’d like to be at the Sikh temple in time for the midday meal. It made a big impression on Rachel, and I think it guided her work to a degree. That sense of service.”

“Let’s get going, then.”

Mariah prepared by wearing a hat and a loose blouse and harem pants that covered her limbs. She braided her hair in a single tail down her back, and carried the cane in case she needed it. Henry led them to the metro, but he wanted photos constantly—the boy selling peanuts, a pair of monkeys climbing a drainpipe, a trio of women crouched in the shade of an overhang selling bracelets. Veronica was delighted by everything, touching Henry’s arm, gesturing discreetly for Mariah to look. They both stopped to admire the door to a library.

A library? She shook her head. “You two are strange.”

It made her feel alone that they had formed such a deep connection. Alone and lonely. Which was just the way life was going to be from now on, wasn’t it? For the first time, she realized that she’d not only lost her career, she’d lost everyone connected to it. Her friends had been really nice about calling at first, but they were all engrossed in training, and who had time to keep up with a washed-up ex-Olympian?

The train was crowded, of course. So crowded she could feel the breath of someone on the side of her neck. A little girl with her hair in a tight braid stared at Mariah the entire way, and so did her mother. She smiled at the girl, and the girl giggled, falling into her mother’s side.

It was as they were getting off the train that she saw her mother. Clearly. She stood on the platform, wearing that green shirt with the dots. She’d been fooled the day before, so Mariah looked away, but when she looked back, Rachel was still there. She lifted a hand andwaved. “Mom!” she said emphatically, and tried to move through the crush of exiting passengers to get across the platform. “Wait!” she cried, and then she was swallowed by people taller than she, and they all surged toward the exits, and she couldn’t see where she was going.

She halted by a pillar, and waited for the crowd to leave her behind, keeping her head down. “Are you all right, miss?” A young woman asked.