Grandpa didn’t move.
I walked toward it.
Opened the door.
Two women were standing outside.
One was Susan.
The other was the woman from the photograph.
Anna.
She looked at me for several seconds, then said,
“You’re Emily, aren’t you?”
I nodded.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Then I came to the right house.”
And from the kitchen, Grandpa whispered one sentence that finally changed everything.
“Call Linda. It’s time both sisters learned what really happened in 1989.”