She limped into the abandoned wing, following the finding pull that drew her toward the end of the hall. Curiosity made her open all the doors she passed. The motion left half-moon streaks on the dusty floorboards. No one had been in any of the rooms for years, but there seemed to be nothing unsafe about them. Lula’s room was the third door from the end. Although Barrie recognized the furniture, Emmett had stripped the room of any personal effects or signs of personality, as if he’d been trying to stamp out every trace of Lula. Barrie closed her eyes, trying to feel Lula’s presence. There was only a hairpin half-wedged under the baseboard, and a strip of pictures from a photo booth that had been forgotten behind the bed. Pru and Lula, side by side, their faces pressed together. Lula beautiful and undamaged, and looking so very much like Pru. Like Barrie. Barrie closed her fingers around the hairpin. In the photos, Lula’s hair was drawn back into a sleek ponytail. Had she fought with it the way Barrie did, caged it with pins to try to make it behave, while all the time she herself wanted to rebel?
