Page 143 of Irreversible

Dad selects a tool with the care of a surgeon, fitting a delicate bit into place. “This should get us past the lock without damaging anything.”

My pulse quickens as the tool hums to life, its sound a soft promise of discovery. I watch, transfixed, as Dad works the bit along the edge of the rusted lock. Sparks jump like tiny fireflies, and the scent of warmed metal mixes with earthiness.He pauses to inspect his progress, then delicately applies a final nudge.

With a satisfyingclick,the lock pops open, and Dad leans back with a triumphant grin. He turns to me, setting the tool aside. “Ready?”

Most fathers would probably want to look inside first for fear of traumatizing their twelve-year-old son with a severed finger or a collection of teeth, but not Dad. He might not know I’ve been sneaking peeks at his crime-scene photos since I was five, but he knows I’m into all the weird, gritty details of his job.

I nod, my heart hammering.

Finally, he eases the lid open, and a faint musty smell escapes, like the ghost of something ancient. Inside, nestled in a thin layer of decayed velvet, lies…

Whoa…what is this?

It looks like a small hourglass attached to a tarnished silver chain.

The glass is smudged, and there’s something inside, something I can’t make out. “What the…” I breathe, reaching out before stopping myself. “Can I touch it?”

Dad studies the hourglass for a moment before nodding. “Carefully.”

I scoop it up gently, the chain foreign against my fingers. The hourglass is small, and it feels oddly…alive.

“An hourglass on a chain?” I tilt it, watching the contents inside trickle slowly. “What do you think it’s for?”

Dad leans closer, his brow furrowed. “It could be decorative, or maybe ceremonial. Hard to say.”

“It’s creepy.” I smile faintly, holding it up to the light. “I like it.”

Dad straightens, his tone growing thoughtful. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. I’ll run a few tests on the materials and see if we can trace its origin.”

“Do you think it’s cursed?”

His lips quirk into a half-smile. “Let’s hope not.”

But as he watches me cradle the tiny hourglass, a shadow flickers across his face, brief but unmistakable.

I’m pretty sure this is a mystery even he wasn’t prepared for.

34

Present Day—One Year Later

My smile is brighter than the midday California sun as I saunter into the station with a ceramic plate wrapped in tinfoil. Astrid greets me at the front desk with a grin to match mine. “Must be a new month.” She stands from her rolling chair and eyes the hidden treats. “He’s with the chief now. You might be waiting a while.”

I glance at my invisible watch. “I have a Kindle, plenty of snacks, and nowhere else to be.” Plopping down in a waiting room chair, I settle in with a contented sigh. “Thanks, Astrid.”

“Any leads yet?”

“Not yet, but I’m patient.”

“Tanner uses a different word.” She purses her lips, tilting her head. “Relentless, is it?”

Inspecting my cuticles, I answer breezily, “Obnoxious.”

“That’s the one.”

Twenty minutes roll by as I tap my feet and whistle under my breath, playing on my phone while detectives and various office personnel stroll by with waves and cheery chitchat. When Tanner opens the door and spots me sitting in the waitingroom with a platter of brownies in my lap, his shoulders drop. Exasperation steals his expression as he shakes his head and flicks his hand my way, trudging through the central room, toward his office.

I follow, my head held high and black pumps clapping in time with my steps, the double-fudge brownies glimmering against the window light.

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