“I need to go,” she said, stepping back. “Miss Linda doesn’t like me being late.”
“Please,” Rebecca whispered, reaching out without thinking. “Just a few minutes.”
Michael forced himself to breathe slowly. “Are you hungry?” he asked. “There’s a diner across the street. Pancakes. Hot chocolate. No strings attached.”
Grace hesitated. She had learned that kindness usually came with conditions. But Rebecca’s tears weren’t fake. And Michael looked less like a threat and more like a man barely standing.
“What do you want from me?” Grace asked bluntly.
Rebecca swallowed. “That necklace belonged to our daughter,” she said honestly. “Seeing it on you… it feels impossible. We just want to understand. We won’t take it. I promise.”
Grace tightened her grip on the pendant. It was the only thing that had never been taken from her.
Her gaze drifted to the headstone behind them.
She read the name slowly: “Abigail Anderson. Our light. Forever loved.”
Silence thickened.
Michael felt something in his chest tear open. The dates on the stone—Abigail would have been exactly Grace’s age.
“Grace,” he said carefully, “can we see Miss Linda together?”
Suspicion flickered in her eyes. “Why?”