Jane's POV
I went back to that frayed, threadbare old apartment of the past—the bedroom where my mother had slept and was filled with old photographs, lacy shreds of ornament, and the scent of books and dried lavender. Years had passed since I had ever been there in that single solitary room, but the memory still remained vividly in my mind, as if painted yesterday for the first time. I had made up my mind this afternoon to sort through her things, to dig up concealed clues within the remains of what was hers. I wanted to understand more about the woman who had ruled my childhood and maybe see the glimmers of the secrets that had followed me from the day she passed away.
I pushed open the splintered front door after stepping into the half-dark hallway. Light threads slanted crookedly thr
