The warning in his voice was subtle, but it was there.

He looked past me, his eyes drifting toward the hallway, then back to the kitchen counter.

He was looking for something.

The yellow envelope.

I knew he would find it if he looked behind the refrigerator, or if he noticed the slight dust disturbance on the counter.

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.

“I need to go to the store,” I said quickly, trying to distract him. “We need milk.”

“I’ll go,” he said. “But first, tell me who was sitting in that chair.”

He pointed to the chair where Rose had been sitting.

“I told you. A neighbor.”

“Which neighbor?”

“Sarah,” I lied, naming the woman from three doors down. “She wanted to borrow some sugar.”

“With two cups of coffee?” Richard asked, a faint, cold smile touching his lips. “And she left her purse?”

My eyes darted to the floor near the kitchen island.

Rose’s worn canvas handbag was sitting right there, half-hidden by the barstool.

I had missed it in my panic.