Page 62 of Buried Secrets

But the raw pain in her voice when she’d spoken about growing up not knowing the reasons behind her adoption wouldn’t leave him alone.

Matt grabbed the folder and stepped out into the rain. The cold droplets soaked through his jacket as he hurried up the front walk, each step splashing in puddles that had formed between the uneven flagstones.

The door opened before he could knock. Marissa Lane stood backlit in the doorway, her expression shifting from mild curiosity to surprise as she recognized him.

“Sheriff Winters.” She stepped back instinctively. “I wasn’t expecting… is everything all right?”

“Mrs. Lane.” Matt removed his hat, water dripping from the brim. “I’m sorry to bother you so late. Could I come in? There’s something we need to discuss.”

Her hand tightened on the door frame. “Of course. Please.”

The living room was small but comfortable, furnished with the kind of practical pieces that suggested a woman living alone on a careful budget. A half-finished crossword puzzle lay on the coffee table beside a cup of tea. The television played softly in the background, evening news anchors discussing weather predictions Matt wasn’t listening to.

Marissa nervously gestured toward the sofa. “Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea?”

“No, thank you.” Matt settled into the offered seat, the folder heavy in his hands. “Mrs. Lane, I need to ask you about your family. Your sister specifically.”

The color drained from her face. She sank into the chair across from him and clasped her hands together in her lap. “My sister?”

“We’ve been conducting DNA analyses on the remains found at the mansion and used a commercially available database to match potential relatives.” Matt opened the folder, revealing the test results. “The second victim we discovered is related to your son Ryan.”

Marissa’s breath caught. “Related how?”

“As his maternal aunt.” Matt watched her face carefully. “Which would make her your sister.”

The silence stretched between them, broken only by the rain against the windows and the distant murmur of the television. Marissa stared at the papers in Matt’s hands, her lips moving soundlessly as if trying to form words that wouldn’t come.

Then the tears started. Quiet at first, then building to broken sobs that shook her small frame.

“I knew,” she whispered between gasps. “I always knew something terrible had happened to her.”

Matt leaned forward and softened his tone. “Tell me about your sister.”

Marissa wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, leaving dark streaks of mascara across her cheek. “Her name was Diane. Diane Hoffman. She was barely eighteen when I last heard from her.”

She stood abruptly, striding to the mantelpiece where a collection of photographs sat in mismatched frames. She selected one and handed it to Matt. A young woman smiled back at him from the faded print. Her features bore a strong resemblance to Marissa’s but softer, more delicate. The girl looked impossibly young, barely more than a child.

“We were all each other had,” Marissa continued, settling back into her chair. “Our parents died when I was fifteen and Diane was thirteen. Car accident. We bounced around foster homes for a few years, but we always tried to stay together.”

Matt studied the photograph. “What happened?”

“She met a man. She was so in love, talked about him constantly, though she was always vague about the details.” Marissa’s voice grew bitter. “Said he was going to take care of everything, that they’d be married as soon as he could arrange it.”

“Was she pregnant?”

Marissa nodded. “Seven months along when she told me. She was terrified but excited too, you know? Thought having a baby would finally give her the family she’d always wanted.” Her voice cracked. “Someone suggested the foundation to her. Said they helped girls in her situation.”

The rain intensified outside, drumming harder against the glass. Matt waited.

“I begged her not to go,” Marissa continued. “Told her we could figure something out together. But she was convinced this man would come for her, that he just needed time to handle some complications with his family.” She laughed, a sound devoid of humor. “I think we both knew he was married, but neither of us would say it out loud.”

“When did you last hear from her?”

“Two weeks after she arrived on the island. She called collect from the mansion and told me she was settling in fine but that she hadn’t heard from her boyfriend. She sounded… different. Scared maybe, or just disappointed. Said she’d call again soon.” Marissa’s hands twisted in her lap. “That was the last time I ever spoke to her.”

Matt made notes on a small pad. “What did you do when she stopped calling?”

“I waited. Kept expecting her to show up at my apartment, pregnant and heartbroken.” Marissa wiped her eyes again. “After two months, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I scraped together what money I could and came to the island.”