Long ago, back when Madge first disappeared—when the police scoured every corner and finally gave up in defeat—Geneva’s suspicions toward Kathleen began to fester.
The sisters had left the house together, but only Madge was abducted. If the kidnappers were after money, wouldn’t it make sense to snatch them both? Two hostages would fetch a higher ransom than one. No kidnapper in their right mind would leave that kind of cash on the table.
And if this was about desire instead of money, then all the more reason to take both girls.
But in the end, Kathleen returned home unharmed. What did that say?
Geneva’s doubts peaked when Kathleen married Teague. After Aberdeen disappeared, Kathleen had the most to gain. There were simply too many suspicious details.
Geneva’s voice trembled as she recalled, “I have no proof—I can’t go to the police and have her arrested. But in my heart, I’ve always known she’s the culprit. I can’t stand to live under the same roof with her, let alone pretend to be her loving mother.”
If she lied to herself, what justice would that do for Madge?
If she forgave the murderer, how could she ever face her daughter?
These two thoughts consumed Geneva’s mind at the time.
No! She could never—would never—forgive her.
That’s why she kept her distance, why she couldn’t help but lash out, why she openly gave Kathleen the cold shoulder.
She wanted Kathleen to suffer.
She wanted to deny her everything she longed for.
Geneva couldn’t control the rest of the world, but she could control herself.
Neely’s eyes were heavy with sorrow. “You’ve been carrying all this alone… Why didn’t you tell me?”
“If I’d told you, would you have believed me?” Geneva shot back. “You always thought I was cold and distant with Kathleen, thought my temper had grown strange. With that in mind, I knew you’d never believe a word of it.”
The old man clutched his chest, stricken.
“I’m sorry… Aberdeen… Geneva… I’m so sorry…”
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