“Was she his wife?”
“No.”
“His fiancée?”
Mark said nothing.
That was answer enough.
I held up the phone.
“Why is she wearing my necklace?”
Mark looked sick.
“Ask Daniel what happened in 1994.”
I marched back inside.
Daniel was no longer at the table.
Neither was his mother.
By the time I reached home, his car was already there.
The front door was unlocked.
“Daniel?”
Nothing.
I went upstairs.
Our bedroom was empty.
Then I noticed the closet.
The door stood open.
So did the small safe in the back corner.Explore Name Books
A safe Daniel had told me years earlier no longer worked.
My heart started pounding.
Inside were old papers.
A few photographs.
And one VHS cassette.
I picked it up.
There was handwriting on the label.
JUNE 18, 1994.
Nothing else.
I carried it downstairs.
Daniel’s mother was standing in our living room.
I hadn’t even heard her come in.
