Written in Stone (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

probably wasn’t his. Over time, his decision to marry my mother turned him into a mean and bitter man, but he stuck it out as long as he was able. And then, just like you, he took off to lead a different life. A better life.”
    She pushed her bowl of grits away, no longer interested in eating, and stood up. “I don’t know you, Mr. Wade, nor do I care to. Have a safe trip back to New York.”
    And with that, she left the diner.
    Though she was eager to get home, she had no way of getting there, so she headed for the police station, hoping against hope that Rawlings wasn’t still in Havelock. Her thoughts were in turmoil and the bruised spot on her head was starting to throb again.
    She sat down on a park bench and dialed Rawlings’ cell phone number. He answered right away.
    “Where are you?” he asked. She told him and he sighed in exasperation. “You had Laurel drop you at Grumpy’s? You couldn’t just make instant grits at your house? Stay where you are. Haviland and I are minutes away.” His voice was leaden with fatigue. “It’s been a very long night.”
    “Let’s go home,” she said. “And you can tell me all about it.”
    * * *
    As displeased with her as he was, Rawlings had driven Olivia home, showered, and told her everything that had happened since their parting in the ambulance the previous night.
    Millay’s idea to show Judson photographs of Talley and Willis living out a carefree childhood in his former house had been a success. The images of Talley hanging from a tire swing, her mouth stretched into a huge smile, or of Natalie and Willis planting a vegetable garden in the backyard had sent Judson into a self-righteous rage. Incensed, he’d grabbed for the photos and ripped them to shreds, screaming out his confession. He’d vandalized the Locklears’ cars, stolen inhalants from the animal clinic, committed two counts of murder and one count of attempted murder. By the end, he was howling and spitting like a wounded animal.
    “I’m relieved, but bone weary, Olivia,” Rawlings had said, stretching out on the bed and closing his eyes. “The photographs Millay took told us a terrible story. There were so many lines, so many marks in the stone. That poor child.”
    Olivia had curled up next to him and covered his hand with hers. “The things people do to each other, to those they supposedly love, can be truly unforgivable.” She hadn’t been thinking of just Judson’s parents, but of the twin brothers, Charles and Willie Wade; of two betrayed woman named Camille Limoges and Munin Cooper; of all the times she had stood on the beach and looked out to sea, silently wishing for her loneliness to abate and for the agony of being unloved to be washed away by the next wave.
    She’d been about to tell Rawlings that people could save each other too, but his breathing had slowed, the air escaping through his slack lips in the steady cadence of sleep.
    * * *
    Olivia had taken Haviland and driven back into town. She’d freed the safety deposit key from the pottery shard and, after a short meeting with the bank manager, was led to a safety deposit box that had been rented by Olivia’s mother over forty years ago.
    “She purchased one of our hundred-year leases,” the manager had explained. “I wasn’t here then, but according to my records, no one has requested access to the box since Ms. Camille first opened it.”
    Thanking the manager, Olivia had entered the vault, removed the safety deposit box, and stepped into one of the tiny, private rooms in order to examine the contents. Her hands were trembling as she fit the key into the lock. What did she expect to find? Her mother had been disowned by Olivia’s grandmother the moment she’d exchanged vows with Willie Wade, so Olivia doubted the box contained anything of value. What if another earth-shattering secret waited within?
    “I can’t take any more of those,” Olivia had mumbled and opened the box.
    Inside, she found a single piece of paper. Her birth certificate. And there, on the line indicating “Name of Father,” was the name Charles Wade.
    Olivia had removed the certificate, stuffed it into her purse, and left the room. On her way out of the bank, she handed the manager the key. “You can rent it to someone else now. It’s been emptied.”
    Returning home, Olivia grabbed a box of matches from the kitchen and paused for a long moment to stare at the woodcarving the man she’d known as her father had made for