Page 98 of The Woman with the Target on her Back (Grassi Family)

All I could focus on was the thing in my hand.

The shiny, multi-colored bracelet in my hand.

The women’s bracelet.

“Did you find—what is it?” August asked as he came in the door, seeming to sense something had just gone really fucking wrong really fucking fast.

I was vaguely aware of him moving into the room and Aurelio in the doorway as I turned the bracelet over and over in my hand.

It couldn’t be.

Could it?

My mind was flashing through memories so quickly that I felt nauseated and dizzy.

My free hand moved out, pressing onto the bed like I could keep myself from spinning.

But it was impossible.

Not as I was looking down and seeing what I was seeing.

“Trav,” August said, squatting down in front of me, his hand grabbing the wrist of my hand holding the bracelet. “What is it? What does this mean?”

It meant a lot.

A fuckuva lot.

It meant my father wasn’t the only one betrayed.

It meant I was a terrible judge of character.

It meant I’d been swallowing lies spoon fed to me for years.

Years.

“Traveler,” August’s voice barked, trying to snap me out of it. “Your father’s life is on the line right now,” he added, and that seemed to penetrate. “What is that? Do you know who it belongs to?”

I did.

God, I wished I didn’t.

I wished it could be anything else but what my mind had settled on.

But I did.

I’d seen that bracelet a hundred times.

A thousand.

More.

Every single goddamned day for years.

“This belongs to Sheryl,” I said, looking down into August’s eyes. “This is her bracelet.”

It had been right there, tightly wrapped around her wrist the last time she handed me cash for her tea. It had been there when I helped her cart her produce out of her trunk to set up her stand at the farmer’s market. It had been there when she stood next to me at the soup kitchen, scooping out meals to the less fortunate. It had been there, patting my hand and telling me I’d made the right decision when I’d told off the developers for the second time.

It had been there, day in and day out, on the wrist of a woman who was a friend.

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