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“I was ten. The bottom ripped because I carried too many library books.”

Holt turns the bag over.

“The outside thread matches the original stitching. The inside doesn’t.”

Taylor examines the seam.

“Someone opened Addy’s repair and closed it again.”

“Frank,” Sage whispers.

Holt removes a small knife.

I stop him.

“Will?”

He takes out his phone and begins recording.

“Ready.”

Holt cuts three stitches.

Then four.

He slides two fingers beneath the lining.

Something crackles.

He slowly pulls out a flat package wrapped in waterproof material.

Sage stares at it.

“That has been inside my bag for all this time.”

Taylor lays the package on the table.

The seal remains intact.

No tears.

No heat damage.

He opens the outer layer.

A thin black ledger appears.

A brass key is taped to the front.

Beneath it is an envelope.

Sage Campbell is written across the center.

My daughter reaches for it.

This time, I don’t stop her.

She removes the envelope.