Chapter 12: The Box

I opened the box on Bev's kitchen table at eleven that night, after she had gone to bed.

The twine came off in one pull.

The first thing inside was a small silver locket on a broken chain.

I knew it before I touched it.

My mother had given it to me at fifteen, a week before she died. The silver was black along one edge now, scorched.

I pressed the clasp with my thumbnail, and it opened.

Her face looked up at me, tiny and smiling.

Preston had told me this locket burned in the car. He had held me in the hospital bed while I cried about it.

Under the locket lay a single canvas sneaker, white once, gone brown and curled at the toe.

It was mine.

I put it down very gently on the table.

Under the shoe was a folded paper, thick and cream-colored, with a law firm's name across the top.

I read it twice.

It was an agreement between Eldon Ward and Elijah Corrigan, dated October 15, six years ago.

It said Elijah Corrigan had not been present at the accident on Shore Road on the night of October 14.

It said he would never state otherwise to any person.

It said that in return Ward Hotels would pay for the full-time care of Elijah Corrigan's mother for as long as she lived.

It said that if he broke the agreement he would repay every cent.

At the bottom were two signatures.

Eldon's was large and square.

Eli's was small, with the last letters pressed so hard they had torn the page.

I sat there, holding the paper, and a thought came up slowly through me.

You don't sign a paper saying you weren't somewhere unless you were.

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