Page 59 of Little Stolen Memories

I started out easy.

“Tell me about Owen,” I said. “Everything I know about him leads me to believe he was a good person, someone who could be relied upon. I’ll bet he was a good support system to his friends, and in some cases, he acted as the voice of reason.”

“Everything you’ve heard is in line with what his parents told me,” Simone said. “I wasn’t at their house five minutes before they whipped out his baby books. And when I say baby books, they have a book for each year of his life.”

“How do they feel about us looking into the murders again?”

“Both parents are on board. His mother started crying when I mentioned it, and his father said he hopes we catch the guy this time. Both parents are willing to assist us in any way they can.”

“Sounds like they’re good people.”

“Two of the nicest people I’ve ever met. Super religious, too.”

“In what way?”

“Owen’s mother prays for the man who murdered their son. Even though she doesn’t know who he is, she told me she’s forgiven him in her heart. She believes it was the only way she could accept what happened and move on.”

Simone raised a brow, exchanging a curious glance with Hunter.

“What is it?” I asked.

“It’s nothing,” Simone said.

“It’s something.”

“It’s just … you’re doing the thing.”

“What thing?”

“The thing you do … you know, with your fingers.”

Simone pointed at my hands, and I looked down.

“You rub your fingers for two reasons. One, when you’re nervous. And two, when there’s something you’re keeping from everyone else. And you don’t get nervous often. So … is there anything you’d like to tell us?”

She was far more observant than I realized.

“I’m not keeping anything from the two of you,” I said. “What I mean to say is … yes, there’s something I haven’t mentioned, but it’s not because I’m trying to keep it to myself. It just happened last night.”

Simone and Hunter leaned in, smiling.

“Do tell,” Hunter said.

“Yes,” Simone added. “Please do.”

“I had a dream last night,” I said. “And before you ask … yes, it was that kind of dream.”

“Ooh, tell us about it,” Simone said. “Give us all the juicy details.”

“I was in the park. Owen was there. He said something about not being able to move on from this life to the next.” I filled them in on the rest of the dream, ending with, “What’s important is, Owen looked just like he did in the crime-scene photos. He had on the same clothing he was wearing when he died. His wounds were the same. But there was one key difference. In my dream, he was wearing a chain around his neck. In the photos in the case file, he isn’t wearing one.”

“Do you think it holds some significance?” Simone asked.

“It might.”

“What did the chain look like?”

“It was gold and thick. Some of the boys on the football team received them from their coach.”

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