Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN WHO KNEW MY NAME
"Who helped him?"
My voice came out louder than I intended.
Maya looked toward me from the driver's seat.
On the other end of the line, Evelyn Price hesitated.
"Not over the phone, sweetheart."
"Evelyn, my husband just tried to take that necklace from me. I need answers."
"I understand. But I need to know you're somewhere safe."
I glanced through the windshield.
We were parked outside a small shopping center in Oak Park.
Maya reached across the console.
"Tell her you're with a friend."
"I'm not alone," I said. "My friend Maya is here."
"Good. There's a café near the Oak Park Public Library. Do you know it?"
"Yes."
"Meet me there. And please, Morgan, don't go back to your apartment."
The call ended.
I lowered the phone.
Maya stared at me.
"Who is she?"
"I don't know anymore."
Forty minutes later, we entered a small café that smelled of cinnamon, fresh coffee, and toasted bread.
Evelyn was sitting at a table near the back.
She wore the same gray trench coat and slightly crooked green beret I'd seen on the bus.
But in daylight, I noticed details I'd missed before.
Her hands were covered in small scars.
Her fingernails were trimmed short.
And hanging around her neck was a magnifying pendant.
She looked at the tote bag in my hand.
Then she looked at my face.
"You didn't wear it."
"No."
Relief washed over her features.
"Thank goodness."
Maya pulled out a chair.
"Mrs. Price, with all due respect, we need to know what's happening."
Evelyn nodded.
"Of course."
She folded her hands on the table.
"My husband and I owned a jewelry repair business for thirty-seven years. After he died, I sold most of the equipment and began working part-time at Bell & Finch."
She smiled sadly.
"I suppose some people retire to play golf. I kept repairing clasps."
I leaned forward.
"How did you know my name?"
Evelyn looked directly at me.
"Your husband showed me your photograph."
My mouth went dry.
"What?"
"Seven weeks ago, he came into the store asking for a custom necklace. He said it was an anniversary gift."
"Our anniversary was five months ago."
"Then he lied about that, too."
She paused.
"He showed me a picture of you wearing a blue dress. He wanted to know how long the chain should be."
I remembered the photograph immediately.
Julian had taken it at a friend's wedding the previous spring.
I was smiling.
He had his arm around my shoulders.
At the time, I had thought we looked happy.
Evelyn continued.
"The order slip had your first name on it. Morgan. Your husband said he wanted the gift card personalized."
"So that's how you recognized me?"
"Yes."
"But why were you on my bus?"
Evelyn looked down at her hands.
"Because I was trying to find you."
She explained that the original necklace had been ordinary.
A simple gold chain with a decorative clasp.
But several days after placing the order, Julian returned with another man.
A tall, broad-shouldered stranger wearing an expensive charcoal overcoat.
The man introduced himself as Victor Sloane.
My stomach tightened.
That was the name on Julian's phone.
"Victor hardly spoke to me," Evelyn said. "He did most of his talking with the store manager."
"What did he want?"
"He wanted the clasp altered."
"Altered how?"
Evelyn hesitated.
"He wanted a hidden compartment built into it."
Maya frowned.
"Why would anyone need a compartment inside a necklace clasp?"
"That was exactly my question."
Evelyn had refused to modify the piece.
She told the men that such a design was unnecessary and that she would not work on jewelry intended to conceal unidentified materials.
Victor had laughed.
"He said I was being dramatic," she recalled. "Then he told the manager they would have the modification completed elsewhere."
The following afternoon, Julian brought the necklace back.
The clasp had been replaced.
Evelyn noticed immediately.
There was a barely visible seam along one edge, covered by a thin layer of temporary protective material.
She had spent decades repairing intricate jewelry.
She knew when something didn't belong.
"I asked him what had been put inside," she said.
"What did he tell you?"
"That it was a sentimental keepsake."
"Did you believe him?"
"No."
Her expression darkened.
"Especially after what I heard him say."
I leaned closer.
Evelyn explained that Julian had remained in the back office while the manager prepared his receipt.
He was speaking on the phone.
She hadn't heard the entire conversation.
But one sentence had stayed with her.
"Once she's too sick to argue, the paperwork goes through."
My blood turned cold.
Maya's hand closed around mine.
"What paperwork?" I whispered.
Evelyn shook her head.
"I didn't know."
"Why didn't you call the police?"
"I did report what I heard."
She looked ashamed.
"But I couldn't prove he meant you any harm. The jewelry was his property, and nobody would let me examine the altered clasp again."
She explained that she had also told the store manager.
His response was to warn her not to accuse customers without evidence.
Three days later, she saw me standing at a bus stop while she was waiting for a different bus across the street.
She recognized my face.
The same woman in Julian's photograph.
"I hurried across and got onto your bus," she said.
"You followed me?"
"Yes."
She didn't try to make the decision sound heroic.
"I was frightened. I had no way of knowing whether your husband checked your messages or whether he was watching you. I wanted to speak to you where he couldn't hear."
She took a slow breath.
"When you gave me your seat, I realized you were the woman I hoped you were. Someone kind enough to help a stranger, even after a difficult day."
I shook my head.
"Being kind doesn't mean I would have believed you."
"No," Evelyn said gently. "But it made me brave enough to try."
For a moment, none of us spoke.
Then I remembered the glass.
"How did you know water would expose it?"
Evelyn explained that the seam had been covered with a temporary material she recognized from jewelry workshop demonstrations. She suspected it might loosen after prolonged contact with water, revealing whether the clasp had been tampered with.
"I didn't know exactly what was inside," she admitted. "I knew only that something had been concealed."
She looked at me with tears in her eyes.
"I should have told you to seek help immediately. I was trying so hard not to frighten you that I didn't explain enough."
I could hear the regret in her voice.
For the first time, I realized how much risk she had taken.
She could have ignored the conversation.
She could have decided it wasn't her business.
Instead, she had searched for a stranger.
Because the possibility of being wrong seemed less frightening to her than the possibility of doing nothing.
Maya took out her phone.
"We're going to the police. Right now."
Evelyn nodded.
"I'll come with you."
Before we stood, I asked one final question.
"Do you know anything about Victor Sloane?"
Her expression changed.
"Only what I saw."
"What was that?"
She reached into her purse and removed a folded photocopy.
It was a portion of the jewelry store's customer order record.
A handwritten telephone number appeared beside Victor's name.
Below it was the name of a company.
Ridgeway Property Solutions.
Maya suddenly went very still.
I noticed immediately.
"What?"
She stared at the paper.
"Morgan, that company contacted our office last month."
"About what?"
"Some invoices. Supposedly for a property development project."
She looked up.
"But the invoices were strange. I remember because you were the one who questioned them."
I felt a chill.
At the time, I had flagged several unusually large payments to a consulting company.
My supervisor had told me the matter was being reviewed.
I hadn't thought about it since.
"How much money?" I asked.
Maya swallowed.
"More than two hundred thousand dollars."
Evelyn stared between us.
May you like
And then Maya said something that changed everything.
"Morgan, I think your husband isn't just trying to steal your grandmother's cottage. I think he's using your job to cover up something much bigger."
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