PART 3
Because he sighed. “Look, Mrs. Mary. I don’t know what this is about. But that guy was weird.”
“How?” “He came in around ten-thirty. Put the locket on the counter. Asked me if I’d take forty dollars.”
“Forty?” “Yeah.” “That locket is worth more than forty.”
“I know. I told him that.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he didn’t care.”
I looked at the little silver heart on my kitchen table.
“Did he have anything else?”
“No.”
“Did he say where he got it?”
“No.”
“Did he say my name?”
Evan hesitated.
Then he said, “Not exactly.”
My heart stopped.
“What does that mean?”
“He asked if I knew a Mary Louise Turner.”
I stopped breathing.My married name was Mary Louise Bennett.
Only people from my childhood knew me as Mary Louise Turner.
My mother had died six years earlier.
My father had died twelve years before that.
Russell was supposedly gone.
I whispered, “What did you tell him?”
“I said I didn’t know anybody by that name.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t.”
I closed my eyes.
“Evan, please. What else?”
“He asked if I knew anyone who had lived on Sycamore Street in 1981.”
My chair scraped backward as I stood.
Sycamore Street.
I had lived at 417 Sycamore Street with my parents.
Russell had lived three houses away.
It was where we had first met.
Where he had climbed through my bedroom window one summer night because my mother had locked the front door after nine.
Where he had kissed me for the first time.
Where my father had found us sitting on the front porch at midnight and threatened to call the sheriff.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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