A mother falls from Fenwick church tower during her son’s memorial. The village calls it grief. I call it murder.
Before her death, a card arrived at the a crude magpie sketch and the words One for sorrow. It was mailed before she fell. Someone planned this.
As I dig into the cold case of Ethan Bell—missing ten years—I find sloppy police work, buried leads, and my father’s signature on the worst of it. Then another victim dies quoting the next line of the rhyme.
Whoever is sending these magpie notes knows exactly what happened to Ethan… and what happened to Leah Mace the night she vanished.
If I don’t crack the pattern, sorrow won’t stop at one.