Page 114 of Stolen for Keeps
She didn’t have to say it again. I packed up quickly, grabbed my canvas bag, and headed out with a tiny sense of pride hitching a ride on my ribs.
Since the bakery closed early, I decided to stop by the garden center before heading to The Sundown. I wanted something alive in the kitchen window. A few potted flowers, nothing fussy. I picked out a couple of cheerful primroses and a stubborn little lavender that refused to lean.
By the time I reached the register, the lights weredimming, and the guy at the counter was already flipping the sign to CLOSED.
The parking lot was empty. It was one of those still Montana dusks, where the air turned syrupy and strange.
I didn’t see him until I heard the footfalls.
He came out of nowhere, dressed in black, his face hidden behind a ski mask like he’d wandered off the set of a backwoods heist flick. Only this wasn’t a movie. This was real. And I was the target.
He chased me, then grabbed my neck from behind, yanking my arms back with enough force to make my spine jolt.
“My boss wants their necklace back,” he said, his tone making it clear he wasn’t in the mood to say it twice.
My pulse went feral. I didn’t recognize the voice. This was someone new, someone Annamaria or Uncle David had sent.
I kept my tone flat when I replied, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
His grip tightened, enough to warn, but not quite enough to bruise. “I’ve got a knife in my pocket,” he muttered, “and I won’t hesitate to use it.”
Right in the middle of my brain short-circuiting, a thought surfaced. Maybe this was my out. Maybe I could finally be rid of the damn thing. “Fine. You want it back?”
He leaned in. “I don’t. But the one who sent me does.”
“Then let me go. I’ll give it to you.”
A beat of silence passed. Then he loosened his hold, just slightly. “Tomorrow. Noon. Wrap it in brown paper and drop it inside the bin next to the memorial. Don’t be late.”
“Fine,” I said. “Now let me go.”
“Not so fast.”
His grip clamped tighter again, crushing breath from my chest, and then I felt it. Cold metal pressing against my throat.
I froze. “What else do you want?” I asked, the tremor in my voice impossible to hide.
“When did you take it?”
And there it was, the question that answeredmylingering question. Annamaria hadn’t even realized it was missing. Not until now.
This was my shot. Lie, but make it believable. I rewound fast, scanning through her socials in my head. Her birthday was last month, and she’d posted nonstop from that ridiculous mountain resort. Her house would’ve been empty.
“Five weeks ago,” I said. “September thirtieth. Around Annamaria’s birthday. I knew no one would be home.”
He scoffed, then leaned in closer, his breath against my ear. “Tomorrow. Noon. Don’t be late.”
Then, just as suddenly, he let me go.
I stood frozen, my mind locked up. The knife might’ve been gone, but its presence clung to my skin like static. I could still feel it. The memory of pressure. The breath behind it.
Numb, I dropped to my knees and started gathering the scattered flowers and supplies. My fingers fumbled over terracotta and stems. Everything I’d planned for The Sundown tonight was ruined. Bright petals crushed, leaves bent. The frog and bug ornaments had survived the fall, but even they looked like they didn’t belong anymore. They’d always carry the weight of this night now.
The carry bag sagged as I shoved everything back in, not even sure how half of it hadn’t shattered.
I climbed into my car. My hands, bloodless and shaking, were useless on the wheel. I couldn’t get a full breath and couldn’t start the engine either. I tried once, twice. It gave a pathetic click and went quiet again.
Without thinking, I pulled out my phone and called Noah.
