Both men looked up at me at the same time, as if surprised to see me.
“I have something for you,” I said, gripping the envelope.
Whitlock perked up. “Please tell me you found a winning lottery ticket.”
I laughed. “This may be even better.”
He reached for the envelope, and when I handed it over, he gave it a light shake. “What is it?”
I nodded at it. “Open it.”
Whitlock tore the seal and peered inside, the color draining from his face as he stared at the locket.
“Well, what is it?” Foley asked.
Whitlock reached into his pocket, removing a glove, which he then slid on his hand. He pulled out the silver locket, holding it between his thumb and forefinger.
Foley stood so fast his chair rolled back, bumping the wall.
“You’re joking,” Foley said. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Anne Fontaine’s locket.”
“Where did you find it?”
“In Audrey’s bedroom,” I said.
Whitlock let out a slow breath. “Oh, for crying out … where?”
“Inside a small bag taped between the bottom of a plant pot and a saucer. I only found it because I was fixating on the plant, trying to decide if it had died before or after Audrey did.”
Foley rubbed his jaw.
“We checked that room top to bottom. The plant was making its exit when we saw it. Had only one green leaf left.” He glanced at me, looking sheepish. “I should have found that locket. I should have known to look there. Teenagers hide things in strange places sometimes.”
“You searched that room with the weight of a fresh murder on your back,” I said. “Trust me, I almost left without checking the plant. It was hidden well. It’s clear Audrey intended for it to stay out of sight.”
Whitlock grabbed an evidence bag, and as he slipped the locket into the bag, it caught the light, and I saw something.
“Hold on,” I said, leaning in for a closer look.
Whitlock paused. “What is it?”
“Look at the clasp.” I pointed.
Foley crouched beside me. “Is that?—”
“A hair,” I said.
A single dark strand was caught in the tiny hinge, almost invisible until the light had hit it.
Foley’s expression turned grim, and he said, “We know this is Anne’s locket. Still, we need Silas.”
“Yeah, we do,” I said.
Foley grabbed his phone and made the call.
“Silas? Need you in the bullpen. Evidence.” The call ended, and he turned toward me. “I’m sure we can all agree that Audrey didn’t stumble into trouble. She found something that put her in someone’s crosshairs.”
