With a scratch near the bottom.
I hadn’t seen it in 21 years, but I knew it immediately.
My father had worn that pendant almost every day. After he died, my mother gave it to Michael.
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Michael had been wearing it when he disappeared.
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He was 24.
One Friday in October, my mother called me and asked if I’d heard from him. I hadn’t. Within days, we were calling his friends, hospitals, and anyone who might know where he was.
Eventually, his car was found several towns away—locked and empty.
But Michael was gone.
There were searches, missing-person flyers, phone calls, and false sightings. My mother never stopped waiting for him.
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She died seven years ago without ever knowing what happened to her son.
And now, 21 years later, his necklace was hanging around the neck of my son’s boyfriend.
I needed to know where Noah got it.
I didn’t want to ask him in front of Tyler, so I waited until I had a chance to speak to him alone.
I told Noah I had something interesting downstairs and asked him to follow me into the basement.
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Once we were alone, I pointed at the necklace.
“Where did you get that?”
He touched the pendant.
“This? My dad gave it to me.”
“My heart started pounding.
“What’s your father’s name?”
Noah’s smile disappeared.
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