Whisper has been coming out of her shell bit-by-bit these past months. She was like a frightened deer for a long time, but we all just kept coaxing her out of the dark place she was in. She was trained to be lifeless and God knows what has gone on with her body. I have been tempted to take that hard drive out of the safe and find out what she was subjected to, but I couldn’t ruin her trust in me. Trust was a very big thing for Whisper, and I couldn’t break that.

We were all very careful not to tell Whisper what to do, but to teach her. She had to learn her opinion mattered.

Whisper thrived under Miss Catherine’s roof, and a strong, loyal friendship has built. I know that girl loves Miss Catherine, and I’m sure the old lady knows it too.

She has really blossomed around those she trusts. I think Miss Catherine would have had her heart broken if Whisper up and left her to explore the world that was waiting for her to discover, like any girl of her age.

I treated her like a daughter. I knew I shouldn’t get close to her that way. She had every right to up and leave one day, but I too would have missed her.

We were an unplanned family.

I could see Lincoln hanging around a fair bit too. Once I knew the danger to her was non-existent, Lincoln wasn’t needed anymore, but he still found ways to drop on by Miss Catherine’s place and offer his services for repair jobs around her home. He is drawn to her like we all are.

Lincoln’s only twenty-seven, and I trust him with my life. He is a respected member of my team. I can see he’s very protective of Whisper and values their friendship, and would do the right thing by her, because she isn’t ready for anything other than the friend zone.

I have gotten Whisper involved in training. I personally think it helps to take her mind off things, and she’s good at it, because she’s disciplined. She comes over to the bar and works out the back with me on weights and the heavy bag. I’m teaching her self-defense because knowing she can look after herself will help to empower her mind into confirming she’s in control of her life. A strong mind and a strong body is what she needs. I’ve taken her to the gun range, and she can now handle a gun. She’s getting pretty good at it too.

The townsfolk have been great welcoming a new person among them. It helps that she’s so likable. We have spun a good enough story for those who have enquired, keeping the nosier ones’ minds at bay. Life has gone on without a hitch. Nobody would know the trauma Whisper has been through. She understands the importance of not letting her guard down and telling anybody. There’s a lot at stake with my involvement in her cover up.

William Dupré’s death is no longer gossip. His son didn’t even come to the funeral, he was pretty much a phantom because nobody had ever met him, and as far as I can tell, the house hasn’t been visited.

Whisper has taken to staying with me sometimes, and I’ve got to admit I like having her company. I may have missed out on having children, but having Whisper around makes up for it.

I know she feels she owes me some of her time as payback. I’m more than happy she’s safe under my roof or Miss Catherine’s. She needs the freedom to roam between our homes. It validates the fact that she can do what she wants. The first time she told Miss Catherine she was going to stay with me overnight, she got herself all stressed out about letting her know. Miss Catherine has this weird sixth sense, so she knew what was coming, and she set Whisper straight. Now she comes and goes as she pleases.

To aid in her independence, Lincoln and I helped her get her driver’s and motorbike licenses. It was important that she acted like a normal twenty-one-year-old on the surface. Until we can get her a car, she borrows one of my bikes. She hasn’t ventured very far, only to Miss Catherine’s or the bar, or she goes riding with Lincoln on the back roads. I know she enjoys the freedom.

We have given her everything she needs if she wants to up and leave Connard, but she hasn’t. For that, we are all grateful.

I worry she hasn’t talked to a therapist about her time with that bastard. I watch her for signs of distress, and she holds it altogether well.

Too well.

I don’t want to pressure her to talk to a stranger in a room with a pad and pen, who will analyse her. She’s smart. I know she will do what she needs to do when the time is right. It helps talking to me and Miss Catherine, but we aren’t professionals at dealing with this type of mental trauma. We can only be here when she needs us.

Little the fuck did I know that was gonna be sooner than later.

Catching up with Linc at the Little Cafe in town is always a treat. We enjoy spending time together. I’m sitting here on my lunch break, waiting for him to arrive, while Lenny, the old black jazz musician, is playing his saxophone across the road. He plays beautifully. He just sits there on an upturned wooden crate on the corner of the street, having a smoke around lunch time each day, talking to the residents or playing his saxophone or trumpet for the town.

Miss Catherine told me Lenny turned up in Connard around twenty years ago. He’s a little sweet on her, and she doesn’t mind the gentlemanly attention he gives her when she’s in town. I’m beginning to think they would make for a great elderly couple. She told me he was once part of a famous all-black jazz band. She’s always polite when he woos her with a special piece of music every time she walks past his corner. It’s like he’s trying to talk to her through his music, but she never extends any invitation to him.

Sometimes, I see Lenny watching me curiously when I’m running errands for Boxer or taking a walk on my break. I’m not afraid of him. I’m more inquisitive of the looks he gives me and what he’s thinking. He couldn’t possibly know about my past, but he looks at me like he knows something. When I start to feel conscious of his watchful eyes, I look over at him, and he will be giving me a big, toothy smile, and that settles my thoughts. He will bob his head as he lifts his chocolate brown, felt, pork pie hat, and say, “Miss Whisper, nice day for a walk.” Then I feel relaxed again.

Suddenly, an overweight, dark-haired man pulls the chair opposite me out, inviting himself to my table, startling me out of my thoughts. He is direct, holding his hand out for me to shake, which I do. “Whisper, I presume. My name is Jonathan Boothe. I am William Dupré’s lawyer.” He licks his lips. “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person, my dear.”

I snatch my hand back out of his and he gives me a sleazy smile. I don’t like him at all.

“It has taken me a while to track you down, but now that the papers have been served to the other party, I must reveal to you a document that William had in place in case he departed this world before his time.”

He raises an eyebrow at me knowingly.

What does he know?

“I don’t understand.” Nobody is supposed to know about my past.

“I’m just William’s lawyer who is passing on this document to you.” He gives me a smirk. “It took me too long to locate you...Miss Whisper...De Ville.” He says my last name on a horrid sneer. “Where have you been hiding, my dear? I thought you had skipped town, long gone, but on a third attempt, to my surprise, I found you right here.”

I need this man away from me because he talks like he knows things about me. He waits for my response to his remark. I give him nothing but silence. Boxer and Miss Catherine drilled it into me to never talk about my past, no matter what.

My hands are starting to tremble, and I can feel myself sweating. I want this man to leave me alone. There’s something toxic about him; I feel it in my gut. I start to get up and move away because he’s sending my mind into a tailspin.