“And here is the bracelet we found in Teacups.”
Holt took it.
The instant he saw it clearly, his heart slammed hard against his ribs.
His brows rose.
There was no mistaking the white gold, the old craftsmanship, the delicate links with a distinctive clasp. Then there was the tiny hand-worked engraving so fine most people would miss it unless they knew where to look.
A question screamed through his head.
How had this piece of jewelry ended up at Teacups?
5
HOLT
Holt looked up sharply. “You said you found this in Teacups?”
“Yes.” Rad’s eyes narrowed on his face. “You know who it belongs to, don’t you?”
“I think so.” Holt swallowed once, his throat suddenly tight. “Do you know who this belongs to?”
“I saw it on Sienna Morrison a couple of weeks ago,” Rad said. “I know because it flew off into the sand during a volleyball game, and she was frantic about finding it.”
Holt stared at the bracelet again. “Are you sure Sienna Morrison was wearing this?” He glanced at Rad.
“Yeah,” Rad said. “It was hard to forget because Sienna was really frantic about finding it, and then she demanded to be taken home as soon as it was found.” He frowned. “It looks expensive. That’s probably why Sienna was so frantic. Her mother would’ve killed her if she’d lost it.”
“It actually is worth a fortune,” Holt said quietly. “I know it doesn’t look like much at first glance, but it’s old, and thecraftsmanship is exceptional. It’s white gold, hand-finished, custom work from a high-end jeweler back when pieces like this were commissioned privately. Today, the metal and workmanship alone would make it valuable.”
Rad let out a low whistle. “Okay, so Sienna has reason to be frantic.”
“It’s not even the monetary value that matters most.” Holt turned the baggie in his hand, examining the piece of jewelry.
“You’re talking about sentimental and historical value too.” Rad tilted his head and looked at the item in his father’s hand.
“There is,” Holt said with a nod.
He looked at the bracelet and felt the old anger stir, tangled up with memory and grief and something much sharper than either.
“Are you sure Sienna Morrison was wearing it that day?” he asked his son again, looking up at Rad.
“Yeah.” Rad was already pulling out his phone. “I took pictures on the beach. I’m sure it must be in one of them.”
He scrolled for a moment, then found the image and zoomed in before passing the phone across.
“There.” Rad pointed to the photo.
Holt took the phone.
Sienna stood near the shoreline laughing at something Ace had said, one arm lifted, the bracelet visible at her wrist.
“Yes,” Holt said, handing the phone back. “That’s it.”
He sat in silence for a second, thinking fast.
“Will you send me that picture?” he asked. “Then I need you to quietly ask everyone who was there on the beach that day with you to come see me. Everyone except Sienna. Keep it as quiet as you can. Use any excuse you like. I’ll need to get a statement from you too.”
