Chapter 6 - THE LOCKET
I looked down. In the chaos of the morning, I hadn't even realized I was wearing it. It was a cheap, gold-plated locket I had found in the back of my jewelry box that morning while getting dressed. I had thrown it on simply because the clasp on my usual silver chain was broken.
"I bought it at a flea market years ago," I said, frowning at his sudden, frantic fixation on it. "Why?"
"Take it off," he demanded, his voice dropping into a desperate, panicked whisper. He glanced at the officer standing by the door. "Take it off right now and give it to me."
"Sit back down," the officer barked, resting a hand on his belt.
David ignored him, his eyes locked on the cheap gold heart resting against my collarbone. "Please. I'll give you everything. I'll sign whatever you want. Just give me the necklace."
I slowly reached up and unclasped the locket. It felt light, entirely unremarkable. But the sheer terror in my husband's eyes told me it was the most valuable thing in this room.
I didn't give it to him.
Instead, I dug my thumbnail into the tiny seam on the side and pried the locket open.
There was no picture inside.
Folded tightly into a tiny, perfect square was a piece of parchment paper.
I unfolded it carefully on the table. It was a tiny, handwritten note, but the handwriting wasn't David's. It was a cramped, elegant cursive.
Safe deposit box 402. First National. The code is your birthday.
"Whose handwriting is this?" I demanded.
David slumped back in his chair, all the fight draining out of him. He looked like a deflated balloon. "It was my mother's."
My mother-in-law had passed away two years ago from a sudden stroke. David had always claimed she died completely broke, leaving him with nothing but funeral debt.
"What is in the box, David?" I asked, my voice dangerously calm.
He closed his eyes. "The real money."
"What real money?"
"The cemetery," he whispered. "I didn't steal those things. She did."
I stared at him, stunned. "Your mother?"
"She was the estate manager for the county for thirty years," he confessed, refusing to open his eyes. "When people died with no heirs, she was supposed to auction the estates for the state. But she held things back. Jewelry, bearer bonds, cash. Millions over three decades. When she died, she hid the key and left me clues. I've been looking for that locket for two years."
He had been funding his double life, wooing Eleanor, and trying to escape, all because he was desperate to find his mother's stolen fortune before the county audited her old files.
"You tried to kill us," I said, my voice shaking with disgust. "You sold our daughter... to buy yourself time to find this?"
"I needed a clean break!" he cried out, finally looking at me. "If you were dead, no one would ask questions about my sudden wealth. I could claim I found your hidden investments!"
I picked up the tiny piece of paper and the locket.
"You're a monster," I said. "And you will never see a dime of this."
I turned and walked toward the door.
"Wait!" he screamed. "You can't open the box! If you open it without the key, the bank calls the police! My mother rigged the account!"
I stopped in the doorway and looked back at him.
"Good," I said.
May you like
But as I walked back to the pediatric wing, Detective Miller stepped into my path, his face pale.
"We have a problem," Miller said grimly. "Eleanor's cousins, the Vances? They aren't answering their phones. And according to highway cameras, their SUV just pulled into the hospital parking garage."
