The Unraveling
The guards, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, moved with clinical precision. They didn’t need to be told twice. One moved to secure Julien, who was still trembling on the floor, while the other two blocked Martha’s exit.
The younger guard, the one who had lowered his eyes earlier, reached out. Martha didn’t give up the bag easily. She scrambled back, a primal snarl escaping her lips, but she was trapped. The guard firmly unhooked the strap from her shoulder.
The bag was placed on the cold metal table, right next to Julien’s chained wrists.
Colonel Bernard put on a pair of latex gloves. The room was so quiet that the snap of the rubber against his wrists sounded like a gunshot. He began to empty the contents.
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A leather wallet.
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A ring of keys.
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A pack of mints.
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A small, velvet-lined pouch that looked out of place among the utilitarian items.
Bernard opened the pouch. Inside was a heavy, old-fashioned silver locket and a micro-SD card encased in a small plastic baggie.
Julien let out a choked sound. “That locket… that was my wife’s. It disappeared the night she… the night she died. They said I threw it in the river.”
