I grabbed a small flashlight from my purse and shone it down into the dark cellar.

The wooden stairs were rickety, but we descended quickly.

The cellar was cold and smelled of mold and damp earth.

In the far corner, near the old coal bin, was the loose stone my mother had pointed out to me years ago.

The stone had been pulled out of the wall.

It lay on the dirt floor.

Behind it was a small, hollow space in the foundation.

The space was empty.

“It is gone,” I said, my voice cracking.

“The box is gone.”

Nathan shone his light around the dark room.

“Look,” he said, pointing the beam toward the floor near the coal bin.

There was a fresh tire track in the damp dirt near the cellar window.

And next to it, a small piece of paper that had been torn from a legal document.

I picked it up, my fingers trembling.

It was a fragment of a marriage certificate.

I could see the letters “Cha… Cart…” and “Mar… Carter.”

“They were here,” Nathan said.