Jewelry

The ring is warm in my hands; this is how it always starts. Someone finds a piece of jewelry. Something buried in sand or the bottom of a locker room sink. They bring it to me to get it appraised. Maybe if it’s really nice or very old they will ask if I can find the owner. All the while thinking it’s impossible. But today, this ring. It has something to tell me it is very old and it is really nice. It is also not lost. As the ring nestles into my palm sounds and images shuffle into my mind like a deck of cards. The slam of a sliding metal door, scents of wet pavement and garbage, crushing pressure around my throat.

“So, can you help me?” Anxiety rolls off detective Swanson like rotting leaves as she taps the pads of her fingers against the counter.

“I think so. Give me a minute. I need to look deeper. I only see her hands.”

My hands are her hands as she struggles against a much stronger body. All she can do is slide this ring off and drop it pinging into the street like a bread crumb. Please someone find it. Find me.

“Can you see a car? Anything?”

“I know it was a van. With a sliding door. I heard it close.”

“Anything else? A scent or maybe what he was wearing.”

I shake my head, squeezing the ring tighter between my palms. Letting the moment, It was separated from Her wash through me, to organize the deck.

Distant streetlights. The splash of a shoe, a high heel? In a puddle? The ring is heavy with fear as it pings once on the street and lands in the gutter. Pain on my head. Breath catching. The door slams. He…he has dark hair. A dark jacket. Gold glints on his chest, a badge? 

“Please Matt…?”

“Quiet!” 

Pain explodes on my cheek, her cheek. She covers her face and cries.

“His name is Matt. He’s wearing a badge.”

“I knew it. That…Fuck!”

“Who is she?” I know who she is, not her name but I know how terrified she was. I know she didn’t make it. What I really want to know is who she is to defective Swanson and why she trusts me with this ring.

“My sister. She disappeared from the restaurant where she worked five years ago. Her husband, Matt, is a cop. He was my top suspect, but we couldn’t pin anything on him.

“Yet.”