“Not to me,” I said, my voice cracking. “It is the only connection I have left to her.”

He watched me for a long moment.

The rain lashed against the glass behind him.

He sighed, a low sound of irritation.

“You are stubborn,” he said.

He reached into his coat and pulled out his phone again.

“Salvatore,” Vincent said into the receiver.

I held my breath.

“Go to the apartment on 4th Street,” Vincent ordered.

“The woman left a silver locket near the overturned chair in the living room.”

He paused, listening to the response on the other end.

“Get in, get the item, and get out,” Vincent said. “Do not linger.”

He hung up the phone and looked at me.

“They will retrieve it,” he said.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Do not thank me yet,” he said. “The apartment is not secure.”

Vincent walked to a small side table and poured a glass of water from a glass pitcher.

He handed it to me.

My hands shook so much that the water spilled over the brim, wetting my fingers.