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But it wasn't the Chinese dragon tattoo Lena had seen all her life.

It was a tattoo of a mermaid.

"What. Is. Going. On," she whispered.

Her dad had had the tattoo altered at some point. But why?

She glanced over at the clock. She knew it couldn't be long now before her dad came home.

She set the photos next to her on the carpet, intending to hide them in her room, where she could take her time looking at them.

Next was a manila envelope full of yellowed newspaper clippings. Lena slid one out and saw the headline: Local Woman Missing. The one below that read, Missing Woman Presumed Dead from Suicide. She shoved them back in the envelope.

The letters and envelopes that came next were addressed to her dad in unfamiliar writing—i t must be Lucy's. Lena wanted more than anything to read them, but she set them aside for later as well. Her hands felt clumsy and numb as she gathered the pages together. Her name jumped out at her: Selena.

Lena pulled the envelope out of the pile and stared at it—a cream-colored envelope with no other adornment, just her name. It was sealed.

Her heart thudded painfully. Her mother must have written a goodbye letter before she killed herself.

Lena's hand began to crumple the envelope, almost without her volition. Then she flung the balled-up letter across the room. I wish I'd never found it, she thought.

She fought down an urge to slam shut the lid of the chest. I can't go back, she thought. I can't go back to not knowing.

A large piece of heavy folded paper was the next thing she pulled out of the chest.

Lena unfolded the heavy paper and saw that it was a print of a painting called The Land Baby, by an artist named John Collier. The painting showed a small naked girl, about four years old, standing on a yellow sand beach while a mermaid gazed at her from the edge of the water. The mermaid was shown from the back, hands placed in front of her on the sand, her slim hips melting into a long, curving tail. The expression on her face was not visible, but her posture and demeanor suggested longing. The child's expression was unafraid. Lena stared at the print for a moment, then refolded it and set it aside.

A comb and a mirror lay inside the trunk. Lena picked up the comb, which was heavy, carved of coral. The handle was studded with brilliant gems, blue and green and red ... she had never seen anything like it. She held the comb for a long time, running the tips of her fingers over the delicate teeth and the brilliant facets of the jewels. It must have belonged to Lucy.

The mirror in the trunk glinted up at Lena. There was not a speck of dust on it.

Lena picked up the mirror and gazed into it. Her eyes were wide and amazed, as gray as a stormy sea—like her dad always said. For the first time, Lena could see that she was going to be beautiful someday, just like her mother. Her skin was not as pale as Lucy's had been, and she had her father's thick blond hair, but something in the structure of her cheekbones and pointed chin was evocative of Lucy.

As she continued to stare, mesmerized, she became aware of a shadow behind her in the mirror. She whirled around.

There was no one there.

Lena turned back to the mirror and looked deeper. There was a shadow behind her. But it was in the mirror.

Goose bumps rose on her arms, and her heart hammered. Lena watched as the shadow grew bigger and began to darken her reflection in the mirror. It shimmered and swirled, and Lena's own face in the mirror began to dissolve. As Lena watched in disbelief, her eyes were the last features to disappear, melting into the gray mist. She saw that what appeared to be a vaporous mist was swirling into a more liquid form. The depths of the mirror were filled with an underwater murkiness.

This is it, she thought, gripping the mirror harder. This is why the mermaid gave me the key. She wanted me to see this.

Even as Lena continued to stare, she began to make out objects in the water. Silvery shapes flashed by. Strands of kelp