His voice trailed off as a lovely young woman came through the curtains. She was tall, probably around five-ten or so with jet-black hair and deep blue eyes. “Jenna!” she cried as she saw her friend on the stretcher. “Oh thank God, you’re okay. The lady on the phone said you’d been attacked.”

Jenna’s eyes teared up. “I don’t know what happened. I was just going out to my car, and I don’t remember anything after that. If not for him, I’d probably be dead.”

The girl turned around and froze. She looked at him as if she’d just seen a ghost.

Gallagher stared back defiantly. “Something wrong?” he asked.

She frowned. “No.” She waved her hand around as if feeling silly. “I’m sorry, you just remind me of someone.”

“Old boyfriend?”

“No, my great-grandfather.”

“That’s not particularly flattering. I thought I looked rather good for my age.”

She laughed at that. “No, I mean … oh, never mind.”

Jenna cocked her head as she looked at him. “He does look like him, Rose. You’re right.”

Rose. The name hit him like a blow.

Before he could move, the girl named Rose approached him. She pulled out an engraved gold locket from underneath her brown sweater. It was a locket he knew intimately. Right down to the garnet and diamonds that formed a circle on the front of it, to the inscription on the back.

For my Rose.

Happy Anniversary 1930.

She opened the locket to show him the two pictures inside. One was the photograph Rosalie had requested he have made just months before he died and the other was of his son at age two. “See,” the girl said, showing him the photograph. “You look just like my Grandpa Jamie.”

His heart aching, Gallagher swallowed. He wanted to reach out to touch it, but his hands shook so badly, he didn’t dare. “Where did you get that?”

“My great-grandmother gave it to me last spring. Since I was named after her, she wanted me to have it.” She smiled sadly and then closed the locket and returned it to rest under her sweater. “My father said Grandpa Jamie was a gangster, but I don’t believe it. Gram Rose would never have married someone like that. She was a saint.”

It was all he could do to breathe. To not crush her into his arms and weep. His great-granddaughter.

Rosalie.

This vibrant young woman was his living tie to his wife. When he spoke, his voice was thick and deep. “She must have loved you a great deal to give you that.”

“I know. She wore it every day of her life until she gave it to me. It’s just weird, you know? You looking so much like him and all.”