Chapter 2: The Missing Ring
Daniel stared at me as though I had become a stranger.
“Mom, Cindy is downstairs. What are you talking about?”
Nine months earlier, my mother, Evelyn, had needed help after surgery. Cindy had worked for her briefly as an in-home companion. She had seemed gentle, attentive, and patient. Then she vanished after one overnight shift.
So did eighteen thousand dollars from my mother’s savings account and the gold wedding ring my father had placed on her finger forty-six years earlier.
A neighbor’s doorbell camera had captured Cindy leaving before sunrise. I had studied that image so often that her face had settled permanently in my mind. The detective later told us that the name on her employment documents was Cynthia Vale.
“You’re wrong,” Daniel whispered.
“I prayed I was,” I said. “But I’m not.”
Tom called the police while Daniel paced between the kitchen and basement door. He wanted to confront Cindy, but I stopped him.
“We’re angry,” I said. “That means we wait for people trained to handle this.”
Then Cindy’s voice came softly through the door.
“Linda, I know why you recognize me.”
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