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But as she turned to leave, she saw it. On the nightstand. The acorn bracelet.
Eve had looked her up. Sasha Meeks wasn’t Polish. She was from Ohio. And her social media had gone dark eighteen months ago.
“I’m going to find Sasha Meeks,” she said. “And if I can’t find her, I’m going to find her sister. And then I’m going to tell her that handled isn’t the same as gone .”
Eve endured it because she needed the money for her mother’s medical bills. But more than that, she endured it because of the bracelet.
Behind her, the glass house went very, very quiet.
Eve paused at the door, rain blowing in onto her face. She held up her wrist. The acorn charm swung.
“She’s not going to talk to anyone,” Marcus growled. “She’s a nobody. That’s why we hire them from agencies. No family, no ties, no one looking.”
She finished the sippy cups. She dried her hands. She walked to the guest room, pulled her single suitcase from under the bed, and packed in under ninety seconds. She didn’t take much—just clothes, her mother’s photo, and a copy she’d made of that bank statement on her phone.
