Kayla
Grace stared down at the table, her hands clasped tightly together in front of her. She almost seemed to tremble a little as she tried to gather her courage.
I remained silent, giving her the opportunity to speak when she was ready. In the corridor outside, Noah and Nicholas were eerily silent. I knew they were listening to every word. Surely Grace knew that, too.
Finally, Grace glanced up at me through her lashes, her eyes welling up with misty tears. She hesitated, and for a moment, I thought she might clam up entirely. But then, with a deep, shuddering breath, she began.
“My mother,” she began, her voice so soft I had to strain to hear it, “was the one who saw what happened to Mia. I didn’t witness anything myself. I only know what I read in her diary.”
My brow
