“Her name is Naomi,” Sandra said. “That’s all Peter told me. Naomi Osei, though I imagine she goes by something else now. She’d be sixty-three. Maybe sixty-four.”
Cloe stood very still in the small hallway, the words settling over her like something too large for the room to hold. Another sibling. Older than Eleanor and Sandra both. A woman who had spent decades on the other side of a door nobody had known existed.
“Does Peter have a way to contact her,” Mac asked. His voice was careful, the voice of a man trying to absorb one enormous thing while another enormous thing was still settling.
“He has an address,” Sandra said. “Old. From years ago. He said he never reached out because he didn’t think it was his place either. He’s spent his whole life standing quietly at the edges of other p
