“I honestly don’t know.”
I bought them immediately.
I didn’t negotiate.
I didn’t care about the price.
I would have paid anything.
I held the earrings in my palm all the way home.
For ten years, I had held onto photographs.
Clothes.
Old piano books.
Birthday cards.
But those earrings were different.
They were something Hannah had physically touched.
Something she had worn.
Something that had been with her when she disappeared.
I walked through the front door.
Rick was in the living room.
He looked at me.
Then he looked at my hand.
“What did you buy?”
I opened my palm.
His face changed instantly.
The color drained from it.
For a second, neither of us spoke.
Then his face turned red.
“Where did you get those?”
I stared at him.
“At a flea market.”
He stood up.
“Why would you bring those into this house?”
“Because they’re Hannah’s.”
His voice became strangely sharp.
“Get rid of them.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Throw them away.”
“Rick, these are hers.”
“I said throw them away!”
I stepped backward.
“Why are you reacting like this?”
He gripped the edge of the kitchen counter.
His knuckles turned white.
“Hannah is dead.”
The words hit me.
But something about them felt wrong.
I whispered, “She’s missing.”
He stared at me.
“After ten years, Laura, you have to accept reality.”
“No.”
“You need to stop this.”
“No.”
My voice grew stronger.
