Rosamund
I stared at the locket as if the answers to all my questions might come forth from the tarnished metal.
Since I arrived at Wellspring, it seemed the more I tried to understand this place, the more complicated it became. Nothing was ever clear. Everything kept taking turns, and no matter how hard I tried to piece it together, the picture wouldn't form.
I heard footsteps in the corridor coming towards me, and I moved before I thought.
The locket went into my pocket. The cloth went back over the canvas. I smoothed the paint-smeared rag over the table, covering the space where the locket had been, and crossed the room in four quick strides, dropping onto the settee just as the door handle turned.
When Clyde entered, I was sitting with my hands folded in my lap, the picture of a woman who had been doing absolutely nothing for the past twenty minutes.
"You can come out now," he said.
