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I drove to my house, knowing he would look for me there as soon as he realized I was gone.
Still, I needed to be there, if only for a little while.
Five minutes.
That was all the time I gave myself.
I moved through the house like a tornado, making a mental list of all that I needed.
As I rummaged through my closet, I found a box in the back.
I pulled it open and found the only other picture of my mother that I had, a copy of the photo from my locket that I’d had blown up.
I left everything else but stuck that picture in the pocket of my duffel bag.
Froze when I saw something that shouldn’t have been there.
It was a bag, one of those rolling suitcase ones, stuck high on the shelf in the back of my closet.
And it didn’t belong to me.
I stared at it like it would turn into something else, my heart racing even faster now, nausea and confusion threatening to overwhelm me.
I couldn’t let it.
Instead, I sprang into action, remembering the urgency of my situation.
I pulled the bag down, my arms almost buckling with the weight of it.
It landed with a heavy thud on the floor, and as I stared at it, I knew that I didn’t recognize it.
Maybe Davit had left it?
I didn’t know when he could have done it, didn’t even know if he had been back here.
But something compelled me to look inside, so I opened the bag slowly.
Stopped cold when I saw what was in it.
Cash.
Lots of it.
But that wasn’t what had my attention.
I stared at the piece of paper on top, then reached out slowly, almost afraid to touch it, but knowing I had to.
I gripped the paper in my fingers so tightly that I worried I might crumble it.
I stared at it, the tears that had started to gather in my eyes drying.
I’ve been nervous—more than that, on the verge of tears—since I’d overheard that conversation, one that I knew I had no business hearing.
But as I read, those tears dried.
Run, Amethyst.
Two words, written in script that was neat, feminine.
