Chapter 7: The Forgotten Backpack
1261 Words
Metal screamed.
The taxi spun sideways.
My shoulder slammed into the door with enough force to knock the breath from my lungs.
Glass exploded across the back seat.
The driver wrestled the steering wheel with both hands.
"Hold on!"
The world became a blur of headlights, screeching tires, and shattering windows.
Then—
Silence.
Not complete silence.
The engine still hissed.
Somewhere nearby, a car horn blared continuously.
Rain tapped against the cracked windshield.
I blinked.
Everything looked crooked.
The taxi rested halfway on the sidewalk, its front bumper wrapped around a streetlight.
"Ma'am?"
The driver's voice sounded distant.
"You alive?"
"I..."
My ears rang so loudly I could barely hear myself.
"I think so."
He laughed weakly.
"Good."
Blood trickled down his forehead.
"I've had worse Mondays."
"It's Thursday."
"Even better."
Despite the pain shooting through my shoulder, I almost smiled.
Then I remembered.
The black SUV.
The phone call.
Lucas.
"Noah."
The word escaped before I could stop it.
I fumbled for my phone.
Still connected.
"Lucas?"
Static.
Then—
"Amelia!"
His voice burst through the speaker.
"Are you hurt?"
"I'm okay."
That was a lie.
Everything hurt.
"I'm coming."
"No."
"What?"
"Don't come alone."
Silence.
Then his tone changed.
"What happened?"
"The SUV..."
I turned toward the road.
It was gone.
Only shattered glass remained where it had nearly crushed us.
"...they left."
Lucas didn't answer immediately.
When he finally spoke, his voice had become frighteningly calm.
"Stay exactly where you are."
Sirens echoed somewhere in the distance.
"I've already called emergency services."
"You knew?"
"I heard the impact."
The line disconnected.
The taxi driver slowly climbed out through his door.
"My insurance company is never going to believe this."
He looked around.
"Can you move?"
I nodded.
Pain flared across my ribs as I pushed the damaged door open.
Cold evening air rushed inside.
People were already gathering.
Someone shouted for an ambulance.
Another person filmed with their phone.
A young woman hurried over carrying tissues.
"Oh my God..."
She looked at the broken taxi.
"Are you both okay?"
"I think so."
"You don't look okay."
"I've looked worse."
She blinked.
"Really?"
"No."
The honesty startled a tiny laugh out of her.
"I'm Mia."
"Amelia."
She carefully brushed glass from my coat sleeve.
"Don't move too much."
I looked around frantically.
"My bag."
"What?"
"My handbag."
The paper shopping bag Margaret packed lay near the curb.
The sweater had fallen into a puddle.
The framed photograph of Noah was cracked.
I rushed toward it.
"No."
Not the photograph.
The handbag.
It wasn't there.
My heart began pounding.
The envelope.
The key.
The bracelet.
Everything had been inside.
I searched the street.
Nothing.
The taxi driver limped over.
"Looking for something?"
"My bag."
"The brown leather one?"
"Yes."
"I saw it after the crash."
Hope surged through me.
"Where?"
He frowned.
"...Someone picked it up."
Every muscle in my body froze.
"What?"
"A man."
"What did he look like?"
"I don't know."
"It happened so fast."
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"I thought he was helping."
"When?"
"Maybe twenty seconds after we stopped."
My stomach dropped.
Before the police.
Before the crowd.
Before anyone realized what had happened.
Someone had arrived specifically for my bag.
Not to help.
To take it.
Lucas's black Mercedes screeched to a stop beside the damaged taxi.
He was out before the car fully stopped.
His tie was gone.
His shirt was half untucked.
I'd never seen him look less composed.
He crossed the distance in seconds.
His hands found my shoulders.
"Are you injured?"
"I'm fine."
He looked directly into my eyes.
"No."
"You aren't."
He turned toward the driver.
"Call another ambulance."
"They're already coming."
Lucas looked back at me.
"What happened?"
"They took it."
"What?"
"My handbag."
His expression changed instantly.
"What was inside?"
"You know what."
The blood drained from his face.
"The bracelet."
"And the envelope."
His jaw tightened.
"The key too."
For several seconds neither of us spoke.
The crowd disappeared.
The sirens faded.
Only one thought remained.
This wasn't an accident.
Someone had known exactly what I was carrying.
Police cars arrived moments later.
Detective Evelyn Ross stepped out first.
Mid-forties.
Sharp eyes.
No wasted movement.
She approached while studying the skid marks.
"This wasn't random."
Lucas looked at her.
"You've seen this before?"
She crouched near the road.
"No braking."
She pointed toward two long tire marks.
"The SUV accelerated."
She stood.
"They intended to hit you."
I swallowed.
The detective turned toward me.
"Mrs. Ashford."
"You know who I am."
"The whole country does today."
She didn't sound impressed.
"Walk me through everything."
I told her about leaving the estate.
The phone call.
The black SUV.
The crash.
I stopped before mentioning the bracelet.
Lucas noticed.
He didn't interrupt.
The detective wrote several notes.
"What did the caller say?"
"That I shouldn't trust someone."
"Who?"
I hesitated.
Lucas answered.
"Elena Carter."
The detective looked between us.
"Who's that?"
"We're still trying to figure that out."
Her eyebrow lifted.
"I'll need a better answer eventually."
She motioned toward the taxi driver.
"You said someone took the handbag?"
"Yes."
"What did he look like?"
"Baseball cap."
"Dark jacket."
"Late thirties maybe."
He frowned.
"...He had gloves."
The detective stopped writing.
"In this weather?"
"It wasn't cold enough."
She nodded slowly.
"So he planned not to leave fingerprints."
Lucas took a slow breath.
"This was targeted."
"Looks that way."
The detective turned back to me.
"Was anything especially valuable inside the handbag?"
"My wallet."
"My phone charger."
I looked at Lucas.
"...Some family documents."
"Documents worth killing for?"
I forced a smile.
"I sincerely hope not."
The detective didn't smile back.
A forensic officer approached carrying something wrapped in clear evidence plastic.
"We found this thirty meters away."
He handed it to Detective Ross.
She carefully unfolded the plastic.
Inside was Noah's dinosaur backpack.
Mine.
The same backpack Harris had returned outside the estate.
"It's empty," the detective said.
I reached for it.
"May I?"
She nodded.
I unzipped every pocket.
Nothing.
No crayons.
No coloring book.
No crackers.
The bracelet was gone.
The envelope wasn't there.
Neither was the key.
Whoever stole my handbag had also searched the backpack.
Lucas took the backpack gently from my hands.
He turned it over.
Something rattled.
We all looked at each other.
"There's something inside," he said.
"The bag's empty."
"So why does it sound full?"
He examined the stitching along the bottom seam.
His eyes narrowed.
"This wasn't here before."
A tiny line of fresh thread.
Almost invisible.
Someone had resewn the lining.
The detective immediately stopped him.
"Don't open it."
"Why?"
"We need the lab."
Lucas looked at me.
I knew exactly what he was thinking.
If someone had hidden something inside the backpack...
It was important enough to kill for.
Detective Ross sealed the backpack inside another evidence bag.
"We'll have the forensic team examine every inch."
A young officer hurried toward her carrying a tablet.
"Detective."
She looked up.
"We recovered CCTV from the traffic lights."
"Good."
He swallowed.
"...There's something strange."
The detective watched the screen.
Her expression slowly hardened.
She turned the tablet toward us.
The footage showed the crash exactly as we remembered.
The taxi.
The speeding SUV.
The collision.
Then, twenty-three seconds later, a man walked calmly into frame.
He picked up my handbag.
He picked up Noah's backpack.
Then he looked directly into the traffic camera.
Smiled.
And before walking away...
He raised one finger to his lips.
As if reminding whoever watched the recording...
To keep quiet.
- Writer
