I’ll be back later.
For years, I tortured myself with them.
Later could have meant an hour.
That evening.
The next morning.
Ten years.
I fell asleep with the bracelet pressed against my heart and the rain whispering against the glass.
The pounding began just after dawn.
At first, I thought it was part of a dream.
Then it came again.
Three heavy knocks that rattled the front door.
I sat up, confused.
The bracelet slid from my chest into my lap.
Another knock.
“Natalie?”
Felix’s voice came from upstairs.
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know.”
I wrapped my robe around myself and hurried to the door.
When I opened it, two uniformed officers stood on the porch.
The older one had gray hair at his temples and the calm expression of someone who had delivered difficult news many times before. The younger officer stood slightly behind him, posture stiff, one hand resting near his belt.
Three police cars were parked along the curb.
My stomach dropped.
Across the street, Mrs. Beck had already stepped onto her porch in slippers and a cardigan. She stared openly, one hand covering her mouth.
“That poor woman,” I heard her murmur. “After ten years…”
“Mrs. Harrison?” the older officer asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m Officer Phil. This is Officer Mason.”
My fingers tightened around the doorframe.
“Has something happened?”
“We’re here regarding a bracelet you purchased yesterday.”
For one terrible second, I couldn’t speak.
Behind me, Felix came down the stairs.
“What bracelet?” he asked, though he already knew.
Officer Phil kept his attention on me.
“We need to talk.”
“How did you know I bought it?”
“We’d prefer to discuss that inside.”
Felix moved between us.
“You can’t just walk into our house.”
“Mr. Harrison?”
“Yes.”
“This concerns an active missing-person investigation.”
Felix’s face hardened.
“There is no active investigation.”
Officer Mason spoke for the first time.
“The original case remains open, sir.”
“Technically,” Felix said. “That doesn’t mean you can show up here with half the department because my wife bought junk from a flea market.”
I looked at him.
Junk.
He wouldn’t even call it Nana’s bracelet.
Officer Phil’s voice remained calm.
“The item matches a piece of evidence recorded in Savannah Harrison’s case file. She was confirmed to be wearing it on May seventeenth, the day she disappeared ten years ago.”
Felix folded his arms.
“Matches doesn’t mean anything.”
“We’d still like to speak with your wife.”
“Then speak here.”
Officer Phil looked at him for a long moment.
“Sir, I’m going to ask you to step outside with Officer Mason.”
My heart started pounding.
“Why do you need to separate us?”
“It’s standard procedure when reexamining a case involving members of the same household.”
Felix gave a sharp laugh.
“This is ridiculous.”
“Please,” Officer Phil said.
Mason gestured toward the porch.
Felix didn’t move.
Then Phil turned back to me.
“Mrs. Harrison, where is the bracelet now?”
I looked down.
It was still in my hand.
For some reason, giving it away felt unbearable.
Officer Mason removed a pair of gloves.
“We need to preserve it for testing.”
“Will I get it back?”
“If possible.”
I opened my palm.
Mason carefully lifted the bracelet and placed it into a clear evidence bag.
The sound of the plastic seal closing made my chest ache.
“How did you find me?” I asked.
Officer Phil stepped inside while Mason led Felix onto the lawn.
“The flea-market vendor has been under investigation for handling stolen property,” he explained. “One of our officers saw the bracelet at the stall yesterday and recognized the engraving from the evidence registry.”
“But he sold it to me.”
“Before we could seize it. When we returned, the vendor told us a woman had bought it and asked several questions about the seller.”
“He remembered me?”
“You were apparently very upset.”
I sat on the edge of the couch.
Officer Phil remained standing.
“So the woman who sold it…”
“We don’t know who she was yet.”
“He said she looked like Nana.”
“He described a tall, slim woman with curly hair.”
“That’s her.”
“It could be.”
The caution in his voice frightened me.
“But you don’t believe it.”
“I believe someone had possession of the bracelet recently.”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“It’s enough to reopen several questions.”
My mouth went dry.
“What questions?”
Officer Phil sat in the armchair opposite me. He removed a small notebook from his pocket.
“Did Savannah ever talk about leaving home?”
“No.”
“Did she have friends you didn’t approve of?”
“Not that I knew of.”
“A romantic relationship?”
“She dated occasionally, but no one serious.”
“Financial problems?”
“No.”
“Conflict with you?”
“Normal arguments. Nothing that would make her disappear.”
He wrote something down.
Then he paused.
“What about conflict with her father?”
I looked toward the window.
Felix stood on the lawn with Officer Mason. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest.
“Not really,” I said. “They weren’t as close as they used to be, but I thought that was normal. She was an adult.”
“Did Savannah ever tell you she was afraid of him?”
“No.”
“Did she ever suggest he was hiding something?”
I looked back at Officer Phil.
“Why are you asking that?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he turned a page in his notebook.
“Mrs. Harrison, did your husband ever tell you Savannah returned to this house on the night she disappeared?”
The room seemed to tilt.
“What?”
“Did he ever tell you she came home?”
“No.”
My answer came too quickly because the question felt impossible.
“She never came home.”
“We received an anonymous tip shortly after her disappearance.”
