"Two months," said Jane, taking a box of cereal out of the cupboard. "It may seem like a lot, but with Thanksgiving coming up and then Christmas, it'll be January in no time."

"Why exactly are we talking about January?" Sarah asked as she stirred her tea. The Darjeeling was still too hot to drink, and the spoon clanked against the sides of the mug with each hasty pass.

"Oh, I just figured that with you going off to college right after the holidays, we should probably start focusing on getting you ready before we get caught up in the season's madness," her aunt said while pouring her corn flakes. "Living in a dorm is like having your first apartment. We're going to need to get you bedding, a shower caddy—"

"Sure. Yes. You're probably right, but there'll be plenty of time for that," Sarah cut her off before she listed the entire contents of the Target back-to-school section. "For now, I want to concentrate on finishing my capstone project. You know, I think I'm finally tying all of the pieces together—"

"About that," Jane now interrupted her. "The principal called me yesterday and I'm afraid that you can't keep attending school any more."

Sarah dropped her spoon with a clank. "Why not?" The question came out shrill from surprise.

Jane cleared her throat. It was an obvious play to buy time and ease her attitude. "Principal Orr sees your presence at New Bedford High now as a distraction. And since you've technically already graduated, he has no legal obligation to continue to allow you to be there," she said.

"A distraction? A distraction?" asked Sarah, her pitch increasing with each repetition. "For whom, exactly?"

Reaching across the table, Jane touched her hand. "I realize it's not what you had planned, but there's truly nothing more I can do," she said.

Sarah's heart sank, but she wasn't ready to give up. "If that's how it is, so be it. But I'm still going to finish the project. I'm so close to tying everything together and then this whole town will see what has been buried under their noses for over eighty years."

Jane finished pouring the milk into her bowl and set the box down. "Is that right? What exactly is it that you think you've uncovered?"

Sarah hesitated and took a sip of the fragrant tea to think. She hadn't told her aunt about the details of her research project yet because until recently, everything seemed so circumstantial. But now that all of the pieces were now falling into place, she not only wanted to fill Jane in, but probably needed to in order to continue.

"So you know that house on the corner with the black siding, right?" she asked, setting her mug down.

Jane nodded. "The old teardown with the bones Quinn found," she replied.

"Yes," Sarah said, ignoring the omission that she was also just as present at the gruesome discovery as Jane's favorite police officer had been. "I found who the owner was around the time those bones got there. His name was Arthur Tuffin and he was a salesman in this area before the second world war."

"Is that so?" asked Jane with an impressed expression. "That must have taken some digging."

"You don't know the half of it," Sarah whispered, recalling her and Ever's escapades in the basement of City Hall that led to the almost serendipitous finding of the document. "Anyway, I think that those bones belonged to Arthur's wife, who he killed and then bricked up behind the fireplace."

Now Jane dropped her spoon, splashing milk from the bowl as it hit the corn flakes. "Sarah! That's quite an accusation. What evidence could you have found to come to such a conclusion?"

Sarah felt her face flush. This was the part that she was most confident in, yet the part that needed the most faith to believe.

"Ever since I got here, both that house on the corner and your house have been, for the lack of a better word, haunting me. It's kind of hard to explain especially with regards to the Black House—that's what I call it—"

"Yes, yes. I get it. Go on," Jane urged, her attention now fully on the story.

"From the first time I saw it, it has fascinated me like it wanted me to find its secrets," Sarah continued.

Jane shook her head. "That's ridiculous. How could you know there was anything hidden within that house?"

Sarah leaned forward across the table. "That's exactly it. Of course I didn't know! Nobody did. That work crew was about to tear it down and it was only thanks to a mantle that was too pretty to scrap did they take the time to remove it. If they hadn't, those bones would have just been crushed along with all the bricks and timber in that ancient house."

"Okay, I'm confused," said Jane, raking her fingers through her hair.

"It'll all make sense. I promise," Sarah replied as she leaned back again. "Anyway, I think your house and that house are also connected."

Jane scoffed. "They are?"

"Yes. And I think your resident ghost Mabel is the murdered wife."

Jane stared blankly. "What?"

Sarah leaned in again and lowered her voice. "I've seen her, Aunt Jane. First she was far away across the park, but I actually talked to her when I was in the hospital. She was skittish and had these bruises, and the last words she said to me were 'make him pay.'"

Jane abruptly stood, making the dishes on the table rattle. "Enough. This has gone too far and now you just have to stop."

"But you said that you believed in her, too!" Sarah exclaimed.

"Oh, sweetie," Jane said with a sigh as she slumped back down into the chair and rubbed her eyes. "There's a huge difference between coming up with an innocent, albeit supernatural, explanation for all the weirdness I couldn't explain from living in this old house and you thinking that the ghost of a mid-century murdered woman is telling you to avenge her killer."

"So you think I'm crazy?"

"I didn't say that. But after your mom—"

"Don't bring her into this!" Sarah screamed, jumping up from her seat.

But Jane grabbed her by the wrist before she could leave. "Listen. I'm not going to even pretend to know what's going inside you right now. You've experienced a lot of trauma lately, not least of all what Caleb did to you."

Sarah huffed. "Allegedly."

"You don't think Alex—Officer Quinn—is right?" Jane asked in disbelief.

"I still don't remember anything," Sarah said, shaking off her aunt's hold. "And I liked him. So why would he need to force anything?"

Jane picked up her mostly uneaten cereal and dumped it into the trash. "I hope so. I truly do. And maybe the interview the District Attorney is still trying to get his lawyer to agree to will clear things up."

"Or maybe we'll never know and I can just move on, okay?" Sarah said, making her way to the door. She wanted this conversation over and the faster she left the room, the better.

"Ignoring our problems won't solve them, Sarah. Believe me. I speak from experience," Jane called after her.

"So now you're victim blaming me?" she asked, turning around.

"What?"

"You said I was violated, but now it's my problem to solve."

Jane folded her arms in defiance. "You are seriously twisting my words around."

"I don't know," Sarah said with a shrug. "It was pretty clear to me."

"I'm sorry, but maybe taking you in when I have zero experience with raising a teenager was a bad idea," Jane snapped, turning her back.

"Oh, so you're just going to abandon me, too. Is that it?"

Jane spun around. "No, it's definitely not. But I do need help, which I am not ashamed to admit. And I think there might be a therapist with a local practice who could better steer you in the right direction."

Her heart was racing, but Sarah's mind was clear enough to realize that her aunt was not only trying, but she had a point. She wasn't ready to apologize for her antagonizing, but she could extend a small olive branch. "I think the pediatrician gave me her card," she said.

Jane's expression relaxed. "Would you be willing to go?"

Tired and deflated, Sarah shrugged. "I guess don't see the harm in seeing what it's about."