It’s Michael’s 1937 D-type buffalo nickel. The one I found under the tree where the man in the gray trench coat stood staring at me. The one I then found on the dashboard of my car outside Aidan’s.
The one I left tucked safely inside a drawer.
I lose my breath. My heart starts to pound. A savage gust of wind rattles the kitchen windows. Then through the ceiling drops a small metal object that lands with a clatter on the table beside the coin. It spins for a moment before settling into stillness, light glinting off its rounded edge.
It’s my wedding ring.
36
stare wide-eyed at the coin and the ring with my pulse throbbing and a scream trapped inside my chest, knowing that there’s something extremely significant here that I’m
missing.
When I glance up at Claire, she says calmly, “Call
