At six the next morning, Morgan opened the cabinet and pulled out the glass.
For a moment, nothing seemed unusual.
The water was clear. The necklace rested at the bottom, its gold chain curled like a sleeping thread beneath the pale reflection of the kitchen window.
Morgan let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
“Ridiculous,” she whispered.
The elderly woman’s warning had followed her through the night, slipping into her dreams and waking her twice. Morgan had imagined the water turning black, the chain dissolving, perhaps some impossible message appearing on the glass.
Instead, there was only water and gold.
She reached for the necklace, intending to lift it out and dry it with a towel. Then the morning light shifted across the glass.
Something dark glimmered beneath the chain.
Morgan leaned closer.
At first she thought it was a shadow cast by the window frame. But when she moved the glass, the shape moved with the necklace.
She picked up the chain with two fingers and held it over the sink.
A tiny oval pendant hung from its center. It had been plain gold when Julian showed it to her. Now, on the back, a thin dark line ran across the surface.
Morgan set the necklace on a folded paper towel. Her hands were trembling slightly.
The dark line wasn’t a crack.
It was a seam.
She fetched the small sewing scissors from the junk drawer and used one pointed blade to press gently against the edge of the pendant. Nothing happened. She tried again, more carefully, until the back lifted with a faint metallic click.
Inside was a narrow piece of folded paper.
Morgan stared at it.
The apartment was silent except for the refrigerator humming behind her. From the spare room came the soft, uneven sound of Julian breathing. He had fallen asleep at his desk again.
She unfolded the paper.
There were numbers written in blue ink.
Not a phone number. Not a date.
A property address.
Morgan read it twice before recognizing the street.
It was in Door County.
Her grandmother’s cottage.
Beneath the address were three words:
Look under the porch.
Morgan’s first reaction was not fear but confusion so complete that she sat down at the kitchen table.
The note was old. The ink had faded slightly at the edges, and the paper smelled faintly metallic, like the inside of the pendant. Why would anyone hide an address in a necklace? Why would Julian give it to her?
She looked toward the spare room.
Julian had said the necklace came from a jeweler downtown. He’d claimed he had found it after “a lucky break” with one of his business contacts. He had been unusually cheerful, even affectionate, when he presented it.
Now Morgan remembered the way he had watched her face.
Not the way a husband watched his wife open a thoughtful gift.
The way someone waited for a door to unlock.
She folded the note and slipped it into the pocket of her robe. Then she placed the necklace back in the glass, covered it with a dish towel, and began making coffee.
By the time Julian appeared, she had put on her work clothes and arranged her expression into something ordinary.
He looked exhausted. His shirt from the night before was wrinkled, and there was a red mark across his cheek from sleeping against his arm.
“You’re up early,” he said.
“So are you.”
“I wasn’t sleeping.”
Morgan glanced toward the spare room. “You were snoring.”
He smiled weakly. “Strategic rest.”
He walked to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup. His eyes went immediately to the dish towel on the counter.
Morgan noticed.
“You didn’t put the necklace on,” he said.
“I told you I was tired.”
“Right.” He took a sip. “Did you at least look at it?”
“It’s beautiful.”
His jaw tightened for half a second. “You don’t sound convinced.”
“I’m convinced it’s a necklace.”
Julian stared at her.
Morgan gave a small laugh, hoping to soften the remark. “Sorry. I’m just not awake yet.”
He stepped closer to the counter. “I thought you might wear it today.”
“Why?”
“Because I bought it for you.”
“That’s generally how gifts work.”
His smile returned, but it looked carefully placed. “You’ve been acting strange since I gave it to you.”
“I’ve been acting tired.”
“You put it in water.”
Morgan’s fingers stopped around her coffee mug.
Julian looked at the glass cabinet, then back at her. “I saw you last night.”
The room seemed to narrow.
“You were asleep,” she said.
“I woke up.”
“And came into the kitchen?”
“For water.”
“And saw me?”
“I saw you hiding the necklace in a glass.”
Morgan made herself take a sip of coffee. It was too hot, but she didn’t react.
“I wasn’t hiding it.”
“You put it behind the Dutch oven.”
“I didn’t want it sitting out.”
“Why water?”
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