*Claire, can you come to the school? Nolan left something in his desk, and he’s refusing to leave without it.*

I looked at Sarah.

“Go,” Sarah said. “I’ll go back to the office and finalize the forensic report. I’ll meet you first thing in the morning.”

I thanked her and ran out to my car.

The drive to the school was a blur of traffic and flashing brake lights.

The autumn air was turning colder, a sharp wind rattling the dry leaves across the asphalt.

When I parked in the school lot, the building was mostly dark, except for the lights in Nolan’s classroom window.

I hurried inside, my boots echoing in the empty, polished hallways.

I found Nolan sitting at his small desk, his hands folded in his lap.

Mrs. Latham stood nearby, holding a small cardboard box.

“Mom,” Nolan said, his eyes lighting up when he saw me.

“Hey, sweetie,” I said, kneeling beside his desk. “What’s going on?”

“I couldn’t leave the blue shirt,” Nolan said, pointing to the box.

Inside the box was the faded blue shirt I had washed and ironed.