Rain was falling, a light drizzle that dampened my hair.

I ran across the wet grass, staying close to the shadow of the stone wall.

The gate was locked, but the old stone wall had a crumbling section near the oak tree.

I climbed over the rough stones, scraping my palm against the mortar.

I didn’t care about the pain.

I dropped down onto the muddy shoulder of the main road.

A mile down the road, I reached the gas station where I had pre-arranged a taxi under a fake name.

The yellow cab was waiting under the buzzing fluorescent lights.

“Are you Clara?” the driver asked, looking at my wet hair and elegant dress.

“Yes,” I said, getting into the back seat. “Take me to the Grand Atrium on Fifth.”

He put the car in drive and pulled out onto the wet highway.

The drive took forty minutes.

I stared out the window at the passing streetlights, my mind racing.

Derek had sent me a message through an intermediary two days ago.

He had my aunt’s old silver locket, the one she never took off.