“You’re sure?”
“Yes, sir. I would have set it aside for you if I had.”
“Thanks.”
I walk back out to find Aurelia on her hands and knees beside my bed, checking under the nightstand. She’s moved the pillows, looked under the dresser, checked the bathroom counter.
“Anything?” I ask.
She sits back on her heels. “No. Nothing.”
“Maria says she didn’t find anything when she cleaned.”
Her face falls. “Oh.”
“What did the necklace look like?”
“Silver locket. Small. It was my mother’s. I’ve had it since she died.”
The lie sounds so true, I almost believe her.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Maybe you lost it somewhere else?”
“Maybe.” She stands and brushes off her jeans. “I was so sure I had it when I came here.”
“Check the car. Sometimes things fall out of purses in the car.”
“Yeah. I’ll do that.” She moves toward the door, and I follow. “Thank you for letting me look.”
“Of course. Let me know if you find it.”
“I will.”
She leaves, and I close the door behind her. Then I walk back to my office and open the desk drawer. The locket sits exactly where I left it.
She came here looking for it. Searched my apartment. Lied about it being her mother’s. And she has no idea I have it.
Whatever those initials mean, she doesn’t want me to know.
I text Declan:I need surveillance on the Vance estate. Public places where the family might go. Parks, playgrounds, restaurants. Anywhere children might be.
His response comes thirty seconds later:You want photos.
Yes.
That’s going to be difficult. Julian has tight security.
Find public spaces. School pickup, parks, anywhere kids that age go. Just get me the photos.
Understood.
Six days later, Declan brings photos in a folder marked with yesterday’s date. “Central Park. East side near the playground. Our guy got these from a distance with a telephoto lens. It’s the best he could do without getting spotted by Vance security.”
I open the folder. The first photo shows Aurelia sitting on a park bench. Two boys play on the grass in front of her. They’re small, dressed in matching jackets, both with dark hair that curls at the ends.
The second photo is closer. One of the boys is laughing, head thrown back, mouth open wide. I can see his face clearly. Green eyes. Sharp jawline. The exact slope of his nose.
I know that face. I see it in the mirror every morning.
