“Mrs. Butler, you mentioned there was something else?”
“It isn’t important.” She choked against the lie. She cleared her throat and picked up the flowers with the odd note. “There’s this. Do you know what this says?”
Trewe looked at the note. “Welsh. My gran would have known just what it meant. If you’d like, I’ll take this with me and get someone who knows the language to look at it.”
She couldn’t say it, but yes, there was heaps more—tons more.
“Don’t give up hope, Mrs. Butler. Let us know about any problems. Will you do that?”
“Yes,” she said. In that moment, she thought Trewe actually sounded kind, despite his fierce looks. She studied his face for a moment. She had to tell him the most important thing of all—the one thing that may in fact be impeding Annie’s quick return. Could she trust him? “Can I say something for your ears alone?”
He nodded for Constable Craig to step across the room.
She drew the chief inspector aside and whispered, “Ruth Butler is not my name.”
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