Lindale-by-the-Sea smelled like salt and secrets.
Emma stepped off the train with a single bag and the matchbook from Lindale Inn tucked into her coat pocket. The wind whipped her hair, but she barely noticed.
She was chasing a ghost.
But if the ghost was alive—if Marianne Dunn had survived Grace Clarke—then Emma would find her.
And this time, she'd make sure Grace couldn't bury the truth.
⸻
Lindale Inn
The inn was a converted manor with ivy creeping up the stone walls. The front desk clerk greeted Emma with a polite smile.
"Here for the festival?"
"No," Emma said, slipping the photo of Marianne across the counter. "Have you seen her?"
The clerk stared at it for a long moment, then slowly nodded.
"She comes in every Thursday. Tea and biscuits. Sits by the window."
Emma's breath caught.
"Is she staying here?"
"No. She has a cottage on the cliffs. Rents it under the name Marianne Hale. Quiet lady. Keeps to herself."
Emma could hardly believe it.
She was real.
She was alive.
⸻
The Clifftop Cottage
Emma followed the directions up a narrow road flanked by hedgerows. At the end stood a whitewashed cottage with blue shutters and a view of the roaring sea.
She approached slowly. Heart pounding.
She knocked.
Footsteps inside.
The door opened.
And there she was.
Older. Thinner. But unmistakable.
Marianne.
The woman's eyes went wide. She stepped back.
"I'm not here to hurt you," Emma said quickly. "My name is Emma. I think… I think Grace Clarke hurt you. And I think you can help me prove it."
Marianne stared at her. Then said:
"You're her daughter."
Emma nodded.
Marianne opened the door fully.
"Then you'd better come inside before she finds you too."
⸻
Inside the Cottage
Marianne poured tea, her hands shaking slightly.
"I've lived here twenty-two years. I thought I was safe."
"You are," Emma said. "For now."
"I used to dream she'd come back," Marianne whispered. "That she'd finish what she started."
Emma leaned forward. "What did she start?"
Marianne's voice broke.
"She stole everything from me. My name. My identity. My future. When I found out… she threatened me. Said if I told anyone, she'd make it look like I ran away."
"So you did."
"I disappeared before she could erase me."
Marianne pulled out an old envelope. Inside was a worn passport, stamped with the name Anna G. Holloway—her name. Her life.
Grace had taken it all.
⸻
The Missing Link
Marianne slid a folder across the table.
"She used my credentials to get into a biotech startup in '88. I tracked the records once, years ago. The company was shut down for embezzlement. I think she used the money to start over—as Grace Clarke."
Emma flipped through the papers—bank transfers, ID copies, forged signatures.
This was it.
Proof Grace had a pattern.
Of theft.
Of lies.
Of reinvention.
And this time, someone survived to testify.
⸻
Grace Arrives in Lindale
Elsewhere in the town, Grace's car pulled into a remote lane near the coast.
She turned off the engine.
Watched the cottage through binoculars.
Marianne was there.
And so was Emma.
Her hands tightened on the steering wheel.
"I should've finished this years ago," she muttered.
Then she got out of the car.
And walked toward the cliff.
⸻
Final Scene – The Wind Rises
Inside the cottage, Marianne looked up suddenly.
"She's here," she whispered.
Emma froze. "What?"
"She always comes with the wind."
Emma moved to the window.
A figure was climbing the path.
Grace.
Alone.
Deliberate.
Emma turned to Marianne.
"You're not running this time."
Marianne nodded.
"I've been running all my life. Not anymore."
As the doorbell rang, Emma stepped forward.
Hand on the handle.
Face set.
Tonight, the truth opened the door.
And it would not be turned away.