The photograph trembled in the old man’s hand.
I looked from it…
…to him.
The woman in the picture was young.
She couldn’t have been older than thirty.
She stood in front of an old chapel, smiling at the camera.
Something about her made my heart ache.
Not because I recognized her.
Because…
She looked familiar.
Too familiar.
The same dark eyes.
The same smile.
The same dimple on her left cheek.
I slowly looked up.
“Who is she?”
The old man’s expression softened.
“You don’t know?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
He stared at me for a long moment before turning to Lucien.
“You never told her?”
Lucien’s face was unreadable.
“I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t investigate her family?”
“I investigated her.”
“But not twenty-five years into the past.”
The old man let out a weary sigh.
