Chapter 6

At eight-ten that morning, a pawnshop owner offered me seven hundred and eighty dollars for the ring Graham had placed on my finger twenty years ago.

The man didn't look at my face.

He weighed the platinum band in his palm, ran a small metal tester along the edge of the diamond, and slid a stack of worn bills across the glass counter.

A thread from the tissue still clung to one of the prongs.

The pawnbroker pulled it free, dropped it into the trash, and began counting the money.

He counted out seven one-hundred-dollar bills and four twenties.

I…