On impulse, she started into her daughter’s room. Perhaps Jerry had left a case, a box of some kind that the police had overlooked. Systematically she searched Faith’s closet. When she found the little teddy bear with the worn ear, she brought it down from the shelf. She’d bought it for Faith before she’d been born. It was a vivid shade of purple, or had been so many years before. Now it was faded a bit, a little loose at the seams. The ear had been worn down to a nub because Faith had always carried him by it. They’d never named it, Liz recalled. Faith had merely called it mine and been satisfied.

On a wave of loneliness that rocked her, Liz buried her face against the faded purple pile. “Oh, I miss you, baby,” she murmured. “I don’t know if I can stand it.”

“Liz?”

On a gasp of surprise, Liz stumbled back against the closet door. When she saw Jonas, she put the bear behind her back. “I didn’t hear you come in,” she said, feeling foolish.

“You were busy.” He came toward her to gently pry the bear from her fingers. “He looks well loved.”

“He’s old.” She cleared her throat and took the toy back again. But she found it impossible to stick it back on the top shelf. “I keep meaning to sew up the seams before the stuffing falls out.” She set the bear down on Faith’s dresser. “You’ve been out.”

“Yes.” He’d debated telling her of his meeting with Erika, and had decided to keep what he’d learned to himself, at least for now. “You’re home early.”

“I found something.” Liz reached in her pocket and drew out her keys. “This isn’t mine.”

Jonas frowned at the key she indicated. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean this isn’t my key, and I don’t know how it got on my ring.”

“You just found it today?”

“I found it today, but it could have been put on anytime. I don’t think I would’ve noticed.” With the vain hope of distancing herself, Liz unhooked it from the others and handed it to Jonas. “I keep these in a drawer at the shop when I’m there. At home, I usually toss them on the kitchen counter. I can’t think of any reason for someone to put it with mine unless they wanted to hide it.”

Jonas examined the key. “‘The Purloined Letter,’” he murmured.

“What?”

“It was one of Jerry’s favorite stories when we were kids. I remember when he tested out the theory by putting a book he’d bought for my father for Christmas on the shelf in the library.”

“So do you think it was his?”

“I think it would be just his style.”